Always be drunk.
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time's horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
will answer you:
"Time to get drunk!
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"
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Comments about this poem (Get Drunk by Charles Baudelaire )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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