Not yet empty my glass of wine,
It will, anytime, I don’t mind.
Glass is fragile, it will break,
Even mountains crack.
No wines can drowse me.
Some friends see stars mid day,
And dance on the highway,
Not me, but don’t know why I asked
‘Is your colour from my heart?
Is your smell from my sorrows?’
Meaningless was my query
But the wine was in a hurry
To respond : my color is my own
My smell is my own.
Your sorrows are your own
Your heart, not my part.
It was clear wine care least for me
That’s why I don’t worry
If the wine glass crack or break!