To a bunch of grapes at the trellis
I extend my arm
A vine weaving an arabesque
I cut it off to put grapes in my hand
Amorous like the back of a nude woman
In Venetian water
Standing with my feet made of stone
How many fruits has it conceived?
How many sins will it exhale?
With cold sweats
Sleeping on a marble bed
A bunch of grapes
A grain of the breast
I rend the rind with my teeth
Wine colored bloom
Commits to the sweet flesh
Deep in my throat
Sobbing
Catching fire
Along a waterway faint in the light
Dregs sunk down in a barrel
Burning the bitterness
By the heat of my breast
It ferments.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This rare grapes bring the taste of life?