Oldest ever wines enriches with time
Fresh grapes in vineyards of my country carries your breaths in binding airs of mystery,
I will save them, even if someday our melodies of spring ends after counting stars.
When the moon sang,
Winter's loving snowflakes
Flew towards the west in search for a holy land above the mountain tops
On mornings of embracing misty grass.
How we held our hands and declared "we're friends and we'll dance, while snows fell
And in India it rained.
On every street of fairy December lights, they casted their spells on each one of us "
Nights went by and dreams lurked in
Lands of Rivers and waterfalls,
Lands of woods and caves,
Lands of you and I,
Lands of You calling mine;
Seasons of gentle tunes of birds and lanterns of hope with flames of life.
Heard across my daydreaming world, wish I could tell, "you were beyond words of worth in my frames".
Living near and far,
All with you with drops of glitters falling apart.
When birds search for ease being thirsty;
When eyes look for woods to build nest for divine families,
When my hands clean your timber wood table before being dusty.
To welcome the one,
I deep down wished to win and run.
Holding onto bunches upon some branches with leaves
Grapes spoke about what was so amazing about springs,
And I remember us waiting for a glimpse.
You and I,
This is what we bring
Without it, Wines could never succeed!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem