We must always live, that's all there is to it.
That's the only question
So as not to feel the horrible burden
Time that breaks your shoulders
And you lean towards the earth
You must get drunk without respite.
But what kind of wine, poetry, or virtue?
As you wish
But get drunk
Here, sometimes, on the steps of a palace
On the green grass of a ditch
In the dreary solitude of your room
You wake up
Intoxication already diminished or gone
Ask the wind, the wave, the star
To the bird, to the clock, to everything that flees
To everything that groans, to everything that rolls
To everything that sings, to everything that speaks
Ask what time it is
And the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock
They will answer you
It's time to get drunk.
So as not to be the martyred slaves of the time
Keep yourself constantly intoxicated by wine, poetry, or virtue
As you wish