She poured her heart’s age-old agony into my heart
like a bar lady pours ageing wine into a sparkling new wine glass.
I looked at its colour, smelled it and swirled it inside my mouth
before passing it through my throat.
Pain never gets transferred from mouth to mouth
but probably when you hold her hand in your hand.
Today, keep my glass filled to the brim, O Enchanter!
I will drink till morning and till I empty your every decanter.