Those are the nearest.
In the Gardens of Bliss.
A throng from the ancients.
And a small band from the latecomers.
On luxurious furnishings.
Reclining on them, facing one another.
Serving them will be immortalized youth.
With cups, pitchers, and sparkling drinks.
Causing them neither headache, nor intoxication.
And fruits of their choice.
