...and memorize a French poem for French class, I've come to realize how much I appreciate my professor's attempt to introduce us to the French culture. Even if it's a little old school. But I'm memorizing a poem now by Charles Baudelaire, and I have to say, he has become one of my favorite poets. Even if it's all in French, this poem is wonderful. Another reason to continue to learn, as my professor would say, "the beautiful French language." It really is, you know. So this poem, by the wonderful (and slightly pessimistic) Charles Baudelaire, is entitled "Get Drunk." Yes, funny title, I know. But it's a wonderful poem about immersing yourself in life, whether it be on wine or poetry or virtues. I love English poems, and learning French will just be another culture to get into. And this is just a little snippet of it, written by Baudelaire.
Enivrez-vous!
Il faut étre toujours ivre. Tout est là: c’est l’unique question. Pour ne pas sentir l’horrible fardeau du Temps qui brise vos epaules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.
Mais de quoi? De vin, de poésie ou de virtue, à votre guise, Mais enivrez-vous, Et si quelquefois
sur les marches d’un palais, sur l’herbe verte d’un fosse, dans la solitude morne de votre
chambre, vous vous reveillez, l’ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue, demandez au vent, à la vague,
à l’étoile, à l’oiseau, à l’horloge, à tout ce qui fuit, à tout ce qui gémite, à tout ce qui roule, à tout ce
qui chante, à tout ce qui parle, demandez quelle heure il est: et le vent, la vauge, l’étoile, l’oiseau,
l’horloge, vous répondront: “Il est l’heure de s’envirer. Pour n’étre pas les esclaves martyrisés du
Temps, enivrez-vous. Enivrez-vous sans cesse! De vin, de poésie ou de vertue, à votre guise.”
Get Drunk!
Always be drunk. That's it : the great imperative. In order not to feel Time's horrid fate burden
on your shoulders and grind you into the earth, get drunk and stay that way.
On what? On wine, poetry or virtue, as you please, But get drunk, And stay that way, And if sometimes
On the porches of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the dismal loneliness of your
room, you wake up, your drunkenness gone or disappearing, as the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that flees, everything that groans, everything that rolls, everything that
sings, everything that speaks, ask what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird,
the clock, will respond: "It is time to get drunk! Don't be martyred slaves of
Time, get drunk; Get drunk without stop! On wine, on poetry or virtue, as you please."
-Charles Baudelaire
