The melody in lines
The spirit’s melody inside
Is the recreation of the human is his art
The discreteness of the endless sight
Merged in sensations.
The wine’s taste like woman’s scent
Strong
Dazzling
Piercing
Till the madness of thought
(…drink is consumed after you tried
the nectar of life
in sweetness of ever – ending moments!)
Lucid is the deepness of red, like the girlish virginity
In that body of dreams
Knitted with the strange
In the soft lip of a lady bug
Who gets drunk by wine drops.
They say that the best poems are written
When the foolish poets betray their lines
For a glass of wine…
© Irsa Ruçi
