Nicolas, let's make good cheer
While we still have the time ;
Outwit care and misery,
The enemies of our pleasure.

Sweep away the ill-humour which inflames us
With avarice and ambition;
Have, like philosophers, a soul
Entirely free of passion.

Chase away care, chase away troubles,
Content ourselves with the nothing we have;
When our soul is pure
The whole body will be well.

A soul hungry for possessions
Always clouds the reason;
Just a little smoke is needed 
To make the whole house dark.

Making conquest after conquest,
Amassing possessions without purpose,
It's nothing but wearing yourself out
And never finding rest.

I've scraped from my imagination
The world with its shameless face,
To focus on poetry
Whenever I want.

That's the possession I desire
Without vainly troubling myself about more;
In future my empire will be
That which can readily satisfy me. 

Since your [the] fever (the memory of which
Still makes me shiver)
Would have taught you only to drink well,
You should not give it up.

On every occasion when the desire
To drink takes you, drink again!
Drink often, and then life
Is no longer than a finger.

It's a great benefit to have dropsy
And for your smooth skin to swell with water;
The most ancient and best
Of the elements, surely, is water!

Not only does the illness
Which catches us unawares, by its efforts
Wear down the stuff of which we're made,
Weakening the strength of the body,

But it also troubles the brain,
And the spirit which comes to us from the heavens;
There is no part which does not totter
When men become old.

Then comes death, the old miser;
And so each of us is sorry
That he did not play out the farce better ;
But enjoy yourself, and commend yourself to God.