Sacred Wine Poem by Adilson Pinto

I wait my Lord, yes, I wait,
For those words which
Will become phrases,
Phrases absolutely well written,
So well written that will be the reason
For the most deep admiration…
Where are they? Where are they?
They are, for the time being,
Sleeping in my soul; sleeping in my soul
As a child sleeps in his baby-bed.
A day, I will awake them,
Those poetical words,
Those artistic words,
I will awake them as Gibran did,
I will call them in a sweet moment,
In a very precious moment I will,
And then they will come from my mind,
And they will enlighten my brain,
And I will write a poetical discourse,
Which will shake many and many hearts…
To this I was born!
For this I will die!
Because all my suffering,
All my falling tears,
It won't be for nothing!
Into my poems there is my blood!
In each letter there is a drop of my blood!
That's why all my poems have life!
They have - life!
They are - life!
My blood runs in all of them,
That's why I will awake them, the words,
In that right and precious moment,
To mark deeply the life of every reader,
With this poetical discourse,
In which I will speak as a wise man,
Who loves to offer to his audience,
The best of his sacred wine:
The poem!