Don't throw it down, you boor

Don't throw it down, you boor,

pushing the jug so roughly in front of my nose!

He who brings me wine should look at me with friendliness;

otherwise the Eilfer wine grows cloudy in the glass.

You lovely boy, come here -

why are you standing there on the threshhold?

You should be my barman in the future:

then every glass of wine will be tasty and light.