My love is a red wine,
preserved its taste
by years - to spare -
for such exclusive lips.
Finally, you swallowed.
Astounded, questioning
such silly patience -
My love become shy.
Beautiful poem my dear, exquisite as the win you speak of
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent metaphor. Concise yet dense. Most of the love I've tasted has been more like vinegar-LOL foster