Le vin perdu. The Lost Wine

THE LOST WINE

I have, one day, standing by the Sea, (But I know no more beneath which skies), Cast, an offering to nothingness, What little I had of precious wine...

What willed your loss, o lost liqueur? I obeyed perhaps promptings divined? Perhaps from a source within my heart, Dreaming of blood, pouring the wine?

Its accustomed translucency After the rosy smoke had cleared Reclaimed the ocean's purity...

Lost was the wine, drunken the waves!... I saw leap high in the bitter air Figures of the profoundest kind...