Wine and Kissing

By Martial

The fragrance of balsam extracted from aromatic trees;
the ripe odor yielded by the teeming saffron;
the perfume of fruits mellowing in their winter season;
or of silken robes of the empress from her Palatine wardrobes;
of amber warmed by the hand of a maiden;
of a jar of dark Falernian wine, broken and scented from a distance;
of a garden that attracts Sicilian bees;
of the alabaster jars of Cosmus, and the altars of the gods;
of the chaplet just fallen from the brow of the luxurious;
– but why should I mention all these things singly?
not one of them is enough by itself;
mix all together, and you have the perfume of the morning kisses of my favorite.
Do you want to know her name?
I will only tell you of the kisses.
You swear to be secret.
You want to know to much, Sabinus.

A first. A mini prologue to a posting which prologue is due to a series of inspiring events. There is no mention of wine in this poem but it certainly seems welcome, perhaps as the ‘wild darling’. Some wonderful things do sneak in. Rumi says, let them.
Elisabet

By Rumi

There is some kiss we want with
our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater
begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild darling! At

night, I open the window and ask
the moon to come and press its

face against mine. Breathe into
me. Close the language-door and

open the love-window. The moon
won’t use the door, only the window.

By Shakespeare, Sad Shepherd, i.2.

Marian. You are a wanton.
Robin Hood. One, I do confess,
I want-ed till you came; but now I have you
I’ll grow to your embraces till two souls,
Distilled into kisses through our lips,
Do make one spirit of love.

By Pablo Neruda

All night I have slept with you
next to the sea, on the island.
Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,
between fire and water.

Perhaps very late
our dreams joined
at the bottom,
up above like branches moved by a common wind,
down below like red roots that touch.

Perhaps your dream
drifted from mine
and through the dark sea
was seeking me
as before,
when you did not yet exist,
when without sighting you
I sailed by your side,
and your eyes sought
what now –
bread, wine, love, and anger –
I heap upon you
because you are the cup
that was waiting for the gifts of my life.

I have slept with you
all night long while
the dark earth spins
with the living and the dead,
and on waking suddenly
in the midst of the shadow
my arm encircled your waist.
neither night nor sleep
could separate us.

I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.

By Plato

My soul, when I kissed Agathon, did start
Up to my lips, just ready to depart.
Oh! on that kiss my soul,
As if in doubt to stay,
Lingered awhile, on fluttering wing prepared
To fly away.

Hafiz

I said: “O Beloved, look at me. I am healthy and prosperous.
When will I get Your kiss?”
He said: “Would I lie to you? While you were talking,
I kissed you and at the same time took your purse of gold.”

I said: “Your price is high. Even if I owned all of Egypt
I couldn’t pay You for that kiss.”
He said: “Don’t worry, the bankers of Egypt won’t lose money
on this deal, and I won’t give you any more than you can take.”

I said: “How will I find, then, the way to Your mouth?”
He said: “I will give you a map that only the sensitive can read.”

I said: “And how do I avoid idiots and idols along the way?”
He said: “In the Street of Love there are those who tell stories, and
there are those who tell the truth.”

I said: “But I am happy here in the Winehouse. Why would I want
to go away?”
He said: “Then stay here if you are happy and truly feel this way.”

I said: “What do wine and all the preacher’s robes have to do with religion?”
He said: “This is like kindergarten to get into the Master’s school.”

I said: “And what are You doing for those who are old and infirm?”
He said: “With a sweet kiss I will make them feel young.”

I said: “And when will we see this kind Master standing at the door?”
He said: “Not until Jupiter collides with the moon, or until
You can drink a cask of wine.”

I said: “But Hafiz prays every morning for Your happiness and health!”
He said: “Don’t pray for me; I pump iron and laugh a lot, and have angels that pray for me all day.

Think of this – now what do you have to say?”

by Horace

When thou the rosy neck of Telephus,
The waxen arms of Telephus, art praising
Woe is me, Lydia, how my jealous heart
Swells with the anguish I would vainly smother!

Then in my mind though has no settled base,
To and fro shifts upon my cheek the color,
And tears that glide adown in stealth reveal
By what slow fires mine inmost self consumeth.

I burn, whether he quarrel o’er his wine,
Stain with a bruise dishonoring thy white shoulders,
Or whether my boy-rival on thy lips
Leave by a scar the mark of his rude kisses.

Hope not, if thou wouldst hearken unto me,
That one so little kind prove always constant;
Barbarous indeed, to wound sweet lips imbued
By Venus with a fifth part of her nectar.*

Thrice happy, ay, more than thrice happy, they
Whom one soft bond unbroken binds together;
Whose love serene from bickering and reproach
In life’s last moment find the first that severs.

*The ancients supposed that honey contained a tenth part of nectar, and therefore the lips of Lydia were imbued with double the nectar bestowed on honey.

From The Wine Ode (al-Khamriyah)

Be drunk from it,
if only for the life of an hour,
and you will see time a willing slave
under your command.

For there is no life in this world
for one who lives here sober;
who does not die drunk on it,
prudence has passed him by.

So let him weep for himself,
one who wasted his life
never having won a share
or measure of this wine.

From Greek Anthology

The kiss that she left on my lip

Like a dew-drop shall lingering lie:

‘Twas nectar she gave me to sip,

‘Twas nectar I drank in her sigh!

The dew that distilled in that kiss

To my soul was voluptuous wine:

Ever since it is drunk with the bliss,

And feels a delirium divine.