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87. Drunkard. They say that this sad life/ Is lived as a bitter cup./ Is it a bitter drink/ To pass life “in your cups”?
87. Drunkard. They say that this sad life/ Is lived as a bitter cup./ Is it a bitter drink/ To pass life “in your cups”?

87. Drunkard. They say that this sad life/ Is lived as a bitter cup./ Is it a bitter drink/ To pass life “in your cups”?

Alternate Titles
  • 100 Original Woodcuts by Posada
Artist (Mexican, 1852 - 1913)
Date1947
ClassificationsPrint
MediumColor woodcut
Dimensions3 1/8 x 2 3/4 in.
Credit LineGift of Jack Lord
Object number1973.109
Image Not Available for 12. All Hallow’s Eve. At last the day of all the dead has arrive,/ On which they rejoice, replete with pleasures without number./ In place of sad mourning for ourselves,/ Let us, with laughs and pulque, go cry in our cups.
12. All Hallow’s Eve. At last the day of all the dead has arrive,/ On which they rejoice, replete with pleasures without number./ In place of sad mourning for ourselves,/ Let us, with laughs and pulque, go cry in our cups.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
1. The Bureaucrat. Among books and files/ I pass my life,/ And what is the result?/ Well...You see for yourself!
1. The Bureaucrat. Among books and files/ I pass my life,/ And what is the result?/ Well...You see for yourself!
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
41. Calavera of the Tailor. You made fine clothes,/ You cut them stylishly/ For men of all habits and ways of life./ You made all kinds;/ Trousers and drawers,/ With buttons and with eyelets;/ And you departed this world, friend tailor,/ To the improvement of your memory/ Among your swindled clients.
41. Calavera of the Tailor. You made fine clothes,/ You cut them stylishly/ For men of all habits and ways of life./ You made all kinds;/ Trousers and drawers,/ With buttons and with eyelets;/ And you departed this world, friend tailor,/ To the improvement of your memory/ Among your swindled clients.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
28. Drunkard. The fault was cruel Destiny’s,/ Which willed me such a name /They said: “Go forth, Albino” /And to the wine I went.
28. Drunkard. The fault was cruel Destiny’s,/ Which willed me such a name /They said: “Go forth, Albino” /And to the wine I went.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
51. On Losing a Job. I was a quack, a shyster,/ A bureaucrat, and a poet./ Now I am not worth a cent;/ I am one of those sad unemployed.
51. On Losing a Job. I was a quack, a shyster,/ A bureaucrat, and a poet./ Now I am not worth a cent;/ I am one of those sad unemployed.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
66. Fate. Those who make small use of life/ Live a dog’s life;/ But some are born under a lucky star,/ And others have fate against them.
66. Fate. Those who make small use of life/ Live a dog’s life;/ But some are born under a lucky star,/ And others have fate against them.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
Image Not Available for 85. Reminiscence. The régimes that have come and gone!/ I have lived in tumultuous times./ I recall the old sword of President Diaz,/ And the cannon of the rebellion.
85. Reminiscence. The régimes that have come and gone!/ I have lived in tumultuous times./ I recall the old sword of President Diaz,/ And the cannon of the rebellion.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
91. Life’s Gifts. For the persevering there’s the forge;/ For the ambitious, fate; For cultured people, water;/ And for the fools, wine.
91. Life’s Gifts. For the persevering there’s the forge;/ For the ambitious, fate; For cultured people, water;/ And for the fools, wine.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
54. Adjuster Tequila. Whatever the caprice or even shock—/ Toward a tranquil life/ I always adjust myself:/ Here I am, Adjuster Tequila.
54. Adjuster Tequila. Whatever the caprice or even shock—/ Toward a tranquil life/ I always adjust myself:/ Here I am, Adjuster Tequila.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.
52. Melancholia. Her you see my soured countenance,/ No feelings are repressed./ Life is always the same;/ Those who go are soon forgotten,/ The Dead are quickly buried.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
83. Harangue. He who wishes to live at peace,/ Without snares or jealousies or quarrels,/ Should neither drink, nor smoke, nor gamble,/ Nor marry a beautiful woman.
83. Harangue. He who wishes to live at peace,/ Without snares or jealousies or quarrels,/ Should neither drink, nor smoke, nor gamble,/ Nor marry a beautiful woman.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947
39. Drink. Drinking glass after glass— /So much and so hard did I swell,/ That, stewed and without wit,/ I emptied it forthwith.
39. Drink. Drinking glass after glass— /So much and so hard did I swell,/ That, stewed and without wit,/ I emptied it forthwith.
José Guadalupe Posada
1947