What night it was I can't recall,
When I met this bottle of wine,
And then poetry started flooding the deepest corners of my mind…
Until it found a gateway to my hand,
And my pen composed this poem I can't even recall,
For what, I got drunk …
For what, that bottle of wine was empty straight from the start.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem