To the Carefree Philosophers

Poem by Fanny De Beauharnais Collection Miscellaneous Fugitive Poems and Prose of No ConsequenceThemes Love, SatirePeriod 18th century

You, whom an old error cradles,
Most foolish Disciples of Epicurus,
Know pure pleasure:
Learn to love, it is happiness,
The attraction, the wish of Nature:
The senses deceive…. I believe my heart.
Here below, you say ceaselessly,
One must never go deep into anything:
One must enjoy there, without weakness;
And weakness is to feel.
Excellent philosophy!
To reach only ever the flower!
Epicureans, it is, in honor,
To graze gaily during one’s life.
These globes, which one puffs up by blowing,
A vain prestige that fades,
Satisfy only the child-man:
As long as he plays, he is content;
His eye stops at the surface:
Pleasure, that is his bond;
He flies to it, & burns his wings;
The wretch! It is all his wealth.
How poor they are, the unfaithful!
My cold friends, the day will come,
When the sad icicles of age,
Which respect only Love,
Will leave you as your share,
Only a past lost without return.
What remains to my old age
You will say to me languidly?
I have disdained feeling:
No being takes interest in me
The Gods take vengeance & do well.
Do not call yourselves their image;
I believe the devil an Epicurean.
Poor Satan loves nothing;
And it is for that he rages.

fanny-de-beauharnais

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