Sophy Poetry Translation E-C
The Sommelier Says
The wine is “light but complex,”
as the table of four sit back
and swap smiles
around a bottle of best red —
in this polished tavern fronting
a grand avenue.
Then he, smart suit and a slight bow,
praises the valley, the region, and the year
when the damp of April
extended into May, joined with
arid June and parched July
to generate the sweetest grapes —
“light but complex.”
The diners sip and smile again,
having put to sleep the threat of riots.
The image of a mangled throat in the back alley
is obscured by the rhythm of the servers,
as they glide lightly by each table —
the complexity well-hidden within their grace.
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