As the sun will boil our blood,
We will laugh and drench ourselves;
Through us the wine we taste will flood,
And make us drunk under the elms...

The Californian sun is hot,
The valleys swim among its rays;
So seems divine its name- whatnot,
A flaming spirit set ablaze.

I worship not this sun up high,
Or what we call the ocean blue;
I worship moonshine in the night,
And drink my wine under its hue...