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Dionysus walks his vineyard, his beloved;
Two women in dark clothing - two vintagers - follow him.
Dionysus tells the two mournful guards - The vintagers:
"Take your sharp knife, my vintners, Grief and Torment;
Harvest, Grief and Torment, my beloved grapes!
Gather the blood of scarlet bunches, the tears of my golden clusters -
Take the victim of bliss to the whetstone of grief,
The purple of suffering to the whetstone of bliss;
Pour the fervent liquid of scarlet delights into my ardent Grail!"
Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
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Read poems about / on: grief, purple, women, dark, woman
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Comments about this poem (The Vineyard Of Dionysus
by
Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
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Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
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Eithne Queen of Celts
(3/22/2008 7:25:00 AM) |
In other terms, be moderated, don't drink too much alcohol.It first entices you, makes you feel on cloud number nine, and then you become addicted, and though you feel the danger you can hardly step back.Wise poem.
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