Drunk on Moonlight

The tide was coming in tonight, and after the brutal heat of the day my husband and I relished our walk on the beach.  It was a conjunction of all things good and beautiful:  moonrise, sunset, and high tide all occurred at nearly the same time.  A full moon hung in the sky, yellow against the darkening sky.  Over the water, a pink and yellow streaked sky.  A hawk flew up into a scrubby pine and watched us.  Waves beat against the shore.  Walking back toward the spot where our car was parked I felt the pull of the tide and walked into the mesmerizing light of the moon reflected on the waves.  I thought of this poem by Charles Baudelaire:

One should always be drunk.  That's all that matters; that's our one imperative need.  So as not to feel Time's horrible burden that breaks your shoulders and bows you down, you must get drunk without ceasing.

But what with?  With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose.  But get drunk.

 And if, at some time, on the steps of a palace, in the green grass of a ditch, in the bleak solitude of your room, you are waking up when drunkenness has already abated, ask the wind, the wave, a star, the clock, all that which flees, all that which groans, all that which rolls, all that which sings, all that which speaks, ask them what time it is; and the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock will reply:  'It is time to get drunk!  So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time, get drunk; get drunk, and never pause for rest! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose!'

from Twenty Prose Poems by Charles Baudelaire, translated by Michael Hamburger