Offering a cup of wine holds no charm or meaning for those who constantly harbor longing and passion for you.

The poet speaks of an all-consuming love that makes every worldly pleasure pale in comparison. For a heart that is already perpetually drunk on the longing for the beloved, even the finest cup of wine feels completely dull, flavorless, and devoid of color. True intoxication, therefore, is not found in the tavern's cup, but in the endless devotion of the soul.