Sonnet de l'Absinthe

Absinthe, O my lively liquor, (later "Absinthe, I adore you, truly!")
It seems, when I drink you
I inhale the young forest's soul
During the beautiful green season.

Your perfume disconcerts me
And in your opalescence
I see the full heavens of yore,
As through an open gate.

What matter, O refuge of the damned,
That you a vain paradise be,
If you appease my need;

And if, before I enter the gate,
You make me put up with life,
By accustoming me to death.

(Translation courtesy of Oxygénée. Be sure to read more at Poésie française)