Brother, I ran away with Eth 2490,
There is no banquet that does not end,
This feast has reached its final moment,
The delicacies have long been consumed,
Only leftover cold dishes remain, a sight of chaos.
The wise have already had their fill and quietly left,
You, still unaware, are reluctant to leave,
Clattering your bowl with chopsticks,
Imagining and hoping for the next delicious and sumptuous main dish,
But in the end, what awaits is the enormous bill for this feast,
Someone always has to pay for the banquet, and this time it's you who pays.
