Charles Baudelaire

(9 April 1821 – 31 August 1867 / Paris)

Charles Baudelaire Poems

161. The Albatross 1/3/2003
162. The Jewels 1/3/2003
163. Windows 1/1/2004
164. Crowds 1/1/2004
165. Au Lecteur 1/13/2003
166. Beacons 1/13/2003
167. Autumn 1/3/2003
168. At One O'Clock In The Morning 1/20/2003
169. Cats 1/3/2003
170. Her Hair 1/3/2003
171. Anywhere Out Of The World 1/20/2003
172. Get Drunk 1/3/2003
173. Be Drunk 1/20/2003
Best Poem of Charles Baudelaire

Be Drunk

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
that is groaning, everything ...

Read the full of Be Drunk

Autumn

Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,
And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.
I already hear the dead thuds of logs below
Falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.

All of winter will return to me:
derision, Hate, shuddering, horror, drudgery and vice,
And exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,
My soul will harden into a block of red ice.

[Report Error]