And if sometimes
you wake up,
on palace steps,
on the green grass of a ditch,
in your room’s gloomy solitude,
your intoxication already waning or gone,
ask the wind,
the waves,
the stars,
the birds,
the clocks,
ask everything that flees,
everything that moans,
everything that moves,
everything that sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is.
And the wind,
the waves,
the stars,
the birds, clocks, will answer,
“It is time to get high!
So as not to be
martyred slaves of Time,
get high; get high constantly!
On wine,
on poetry,
or on virtue,
as you wish.

– Charles Baudelaire