<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400873" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Red wine Of May</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red wine of May</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I 've never seen your icon front-straight<br>some weeds on a deserted slate<br>I was looking for a Sunday...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My hands clenching the windows ledge<br>searching a crucifix sharp wedge<br>one sorrow of our May...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You turned in, a later feast, became<br>(of these nights only a claim) <br>a barren route to travel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How many routes upon ocean ways<br>to travel along our fog's haze<br>to far away marginal isles? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I didn't meet you in those cold nights<br>you were in clay bricks and lights<br>my lonely soul's census.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Remember me the 10th of Septembers<br>cold first rains, my mind's embers<br>our lost way of Spring...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Was it an invitation of Maenads<br>or a trial upon dead errands<br>one of my remaining wounds? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My ash inside an ancient amphora<br>or we routed nice, in euphoria<br>traveling together in light...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maybe you decided to serve me aptly<br>in a corner, bend to kiss me softly<br>sweet red wine of May? <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Giorgio+Veneto">Giorgio Veneto</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400873" data-title="Red wine Of May de Giorgio Veneto" data-description="Red wine of May I 've never seen your icon front-straight some weeds on a deserted slate I was looking for a Sunday... My hands clenching the windows ledge searching a crucifix sharp wedge one sorrow of our May... You turned in, a later feast, ..."></div> </div> </div>

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