When a wine glass steps on the barrel
The wine is screaming red in the darkness of the mind
And it lights a torch for the wolves in me
Because the night is long and the dawn is far.

The beasts multiplied in my mind
The howling screams, tells me to run
I’m howling myself, with a red tongue,
At the shore of the swamp of wine.

A wine glass, lost its leg, has my fingers as crutches
Pages of songs braided in wine plaits
In my arms, I hear my barrel mumbling
I am empty. Has the dawn come yet?