2 Boit du vin

Quatrain II

J’entends une voix qui me dit…quand je bois du vin, je bois de vie.


Dans la tavern, une matin, je entendis
Une voix qui disait, mes doux petites,
N’attends, remplissez votre verre de vin
Et boire encore, avant que la vie soit partie

Am morgens in der Bierhalle
Eine Stimme zu mir sprach
Kinder wach auf, und mit dein Krug gefullt
Getränk des Lebens, bevor es verloren ist
(Eins, zwei und nie zu viel)

Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
“Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.”

At dawn, I heard a voice in the tavern speak
Awake, for the moments pass away
Now, fill your cup with wine and
Drink, to life before its done, l‘Chaim

To all of this I hear Walt Whitman reply,

O Me! O Life!

O Me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless
—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself,
(for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean
—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all
—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring
—What good amid these, O me, O life?


That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Leaves of Grass




Éveillé! Pour le soleil du matin de la nuit la plus noire
A jeté la Pierre qui met les Etoiles en Vol
Tiens! Le chasseur de l’Est a pris
La tourelle du sultan dans un noeud de lumière.

Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan’s Turret in a Noose of Light.

Wach! Für den Morgen in der Napf der Nacht
Hat den Stein geworfen und die Sterne zum Flug gejagt:
Und Lo! Der Jäger des Ostens hat gefangen
Der Turm des Sultans in ein Schall des Lichts.



Magicians Penn and Teller would agree with this that life is one grand illusion.

I am not sure who should get first credit for saying that life is an illusion, a dream. Buddha is often cited as the source, and the closest thing I come to is, “What we think, we become.” That is not a bad thought – to be, think. When I was a child not paying attention, my dad said, “Wake up and get with the program.”

Good advice.

Awake, walk downstairs in your flannel PJs, grind coffee beans from a small company like Coava, let the aroma reaches your nose, pour a cup, add a little cream, hold it in your hands and feel the warmth, then sip slowly while watching the sun rise on the horizon.  Observe the darkness disappear, watch the clouds appear in shades of red and gold.

And, of course, “be happy for the moment, this is your life,” as Omar said.