IX. The Convivial Book: Ye've often for our Drunkenness
YE'VE often, for our drunkenness,
Blamed us in ev'ry way,
And, in abuse of drunkenness,
Enough can never say.
Men, overcome by drunkenness,
Are wont to lie till day;
And yet I find my drunkenness
All night-time make me stray;
For, oh! 'tis Love's sweet drunkenness
That maketh me its prey,
Which night and day, and day and night,
My heart must needs obey,--
A heart that, in its drunkenness,
Pours forth full many a lay,
So that no trifling drunkenness
Can dare assert its sway.
Love, song, and wine's sweet drunkenness,
By night-time and by day,--
How god-like is the drunkenness
That maketh me its prey!
1815.
Content of IX. The Convivial Book: Ye've often for our Drunkenness [Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's poem collection: West-Eastern Divan]