This round of wine passed, yet I never saw the beloved's intoxicated eyes. People used to call them drunken cups, but that proved to be our own mistaken illusion.

In this delicate couplet, the poet reflects on a longing that remained unfulfilled. The wine-round is over and the gathering has passed, yet he never caught a glimpse of that fabled, intoxicating languor in his beloved's eyes. It turns out that all the praise he had heard about their eyes being intoxicating cups was merely hearsay, leaving him with a bittersweet realization of his own sweet illusion.