My love, my wine,
I am drunk upon your eyes.
Wind sweeps me aboard a vessel,
And I am sailing on Bacchus’s temple,
Where sweat pours as radiant as blood,
When beneath the hovering sun.
What wills me to land a kiss
Before I land ashore?
What wills me to never miss
The great beauty I adore?
I cannot treasure enough
The saddest laugh that comes from you,
So that I may soothe it, upon the touch
Of one hand, warmed by the red.