Wearing a thin ruby velvet skirt, you'll weave
Your corporeal translucent print
And coat the roundness of my glass.
With traces of your amethyst decadence
Still lingering on,
Your grapes, sweet and complex,
Will combine their notes for nocturnal rites.
Cello, piano, violin and trumpet,
Full of exploding sunshine, you'll be
The flood, the stream, and always
The crimson teaser on my tongue.
Peppery invader of palates,
Smooth-talking devil, you'll have
Sung your cherry-scented music
To the last drop.
Copyright 2010 Alain Millon
