"To Wine" by Jose Luis Borges
In the bronze of Homer shines your name
black wine that cheers the heart of man.
Centuries upon centuries you go hand to hand
From the rite of the Greek to the leather of the German
In the dawn you exist. To the generations
you gave in the path your fire and lions
By that river of nights and days
Runs yours which acclaims friends and joys
wine that like a patriarchal Eufrates and profound
you go flowing to the lengths of the history of the world.
In your living crystal our eyes have seen
a red metaphor of the blood of Christ.
In the violent verses of the Sufi
you are the simitar, the rose and the ruby.
That others would drink in your Lethe a sad oblivion;
I search in you the festivals of shared fervor.
Sesame with that which ancient nights I open
and in the hard darkness, gift and candelabra.
Wine of mutual love or the red struggle,
sometimes I will call you. Whatever you would be.
In the bronze of Homer shines your name
black wine that cheers the heart of man.
Centuries upon centuries you go hand to hand
From the rite of the Greek to the leather of the German
In the dawn you exist. To the generations
you gave in the path your fire and lions
By that river of nights and days
Runs yours which acclaims friends and joys
wine that like a patriarchal Eufrates and profound
you go flowing to the lengths of the history of the world.
In your living crystal our eyes have seen
a red metaphor of the blood of Christ.
In the violent verses of the Sufi
you are the simitar, the rose and the ruby.
That others would drink in your Lethe a sad oblivion;
I search in you the festivals of shared fervor.
Sesame with that which ancient nights I open
and in the hard darkness, gift and candelabra.
Wine of mutual love or the red struggle,
sometimes I will call you. Whatever you would be.
