our best times
are a fine wine
the mature wine
soil carefully tilled
years of planting
cultivating the vine
years of planting
growing pruning
fertilizing harvesting
harvest grapes
harvested aged
to be full drunk
by the firelight
in the evening
of our solitude
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
http: //www.poemhunter.com/terence-george-craddock/
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem