Bought a bottle from our local supermarket –
They were clearing their cellar
Of the odds and sods forgotten and forsaken
At the bottom of their bins.
You never know how it's going turn out:
Corked, turned to vinegar or barely drinkable:
Maybe better if you're lucky….very.
Took our chances with a Cahors 2000
For no other reason
Than we like Cahors
And someone's taken the trouble to store it
In controlled conditions
For some eight or nine years.
If ever it's going to have the chance
Of being good or great
On the back of a thristy throat
Then it's now (or never) .
Not corked, but ever-so-slightly vinegary, maybe.
Sort-of ushered up a bit of a wino's prayer…
Are you allowed to pray for wine?
If so, to Belteschazzer, Bacchus or le Bon Dieu:
Time bided and a little bit of room temperature
Did it no end of good.
Not going to lose you (or me)
In a whole lot of guff about
'Romantic tones of smokey, autumnal fruits' –
My palette is not nearly so sharp or sophisticated,
But it knows what it likes,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem