By Charles Baudelaire

One should always be drunk,

That’s all that matters;

That’s our one imperative need.

So as not to feel time’s horrible burden

That breaks your shoulders

And bows you down,

You must get drunk without ceasing.

But what with? With wine, with poetry,

Or with virtue, as you choose.

But get drunk!

And if, at some time,

On the steps of a palace,

Or in the green grass of a ditch,

Or in the bleak solitude of your room,

Waking up when the drunkenness

Has already abated,

Ask the wind, the wave, the star, the clock,

All that which flies,

All that which groans,

All that which rolls,

All that which sings,

All that which speaks,

Ask them: What time is it?

And the wind, the wave, the star,

The bird, the clock, will reply:

“It is time to get drunk! So that you may not be the martyred slaves of time, get drunk; get drunk and never pause for rest! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose!’