It would be a vintage year of consequence;
a time of heartfelt contract.
Promises, beguiling spells;
incantations on anxious breath.
Harvesting in autumns
yellow light,
amidst the falling leaves,
the generosity of spring and summer dreams.
A time to be remembered.
Incubating unbeknown,
borne on winters penetrating wind;
came infidelity.
A willing suspension of grief
and
disbelief,
my thoughts return
to spring.
Right the glass that overturned
and fill it back with
wine...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem