When red the wine
fills the glass
to its brim,
with sparkling shine
and taste sublime
and candles flicker
in the dark
and soft hands entwine
around mine,
I see the blush
upon your cheek
and the words you speak
sounds like a murmur
in my ear.
There are stars that shine
in the night
but your golden eyes
are much more bright.
Later as passion
gets a life of its own
rapture fills the body,
mind and soul
and I thank Him
that made you mine
and blessed by planting
the first vine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem