Ode To Food And Wine Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

That interval between thoughts,
That harmonious floating, serenely
In the stillness of being—
Unaware of one's existence:
No longer tortured by it!
In that interval, one is merging
With the Source, and is most connected
To the inner self—to the Oneness.

Those known things I have to re-learn,
From my sweetest childhood lost:
Listening to my respiration when I go to sleep,
And awake with a heart filled with joy,
And gratitude, and such enchantment!
To hold the food with both my hands:
To touch it, to savour it, to relish
The well mastication of each morsel!

For if you have your meal
In a ritualistic manner,
Then your soul is nourished, as well.
And when the fruity child of autumn
Is born on the third Thursday of November,
And bears the name, ‘Beaujolais Nouveau, '
Spiced with scents of spring, and forest-fruit:
Raspberries and blueberries of childhood...

A blend of rubies, sunshine, fruit, and flowers:
Roses red and velvety, perfumed petals;
My palate places kisses upon their petals
Fresh as the spring of Autumn, embalming:
The apricity and the elixir in my glass!
Warm my blood with tranquil disposition,
In which my spirit soars on wings
Of tender fancy and imaginings...

Often you appear, as in my dreams you had,
In distant times, when we were young…
Then I remain content in fairy-tale realms
In which lethargically I linger, and I yearn
To pass my fingers through your hair...
In fantasy, as passing trees along the road:
I linger, and I yearn for melodies,
Gently reviving my sweetest memories...