You must always be drunk. That's all there is to it, that's the only question.
So as not to feel the horrible burden of time
Who breaks your shoulders and bends you towards the earth
You must get drunk without respite.
But what kind of wine, poetry, or virtue?
As you wish, but get drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace
On the green grass of a ditch, in the dreary solitude
You wake up from your room
The intoxication had already diminished or disappeared
Ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock
To all those who flee, to all those who groan, to all those who roll
To all those who sing, to all those who speak
Ask what time it is
And the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will answer you
It's time to get drunk.
So as not to be the martyred slaves of the time
Get drunk, get drunk without ceasing
Of wine, poetry, or virtue
As you wish