One evening, the soul of wine sang in the bottles:
"Toward you, oh dear, disinherited man,
I send forth a song full of light and brotherhood
From beneath my prison of glass and rosy wax!I know, on the hill in flames, how much
Labor and sweat and baking sun it takes
To engender my life and to give me soul;
But I will not be at all ungrateful or harmful,For I feel an immense joy when I fall
Down the throat of a man worn out by his labors,
And his hot chest is a sweet tomb
In which I enjoy myself much more than in my cold cellars.
