WEBVTT

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I sip.

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When your fingers embrace the
glass waste, a smile awakens.

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And the dream of a man
asleep in a distant night.

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It's been a long day
and he's blown his soul

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into many a glass.

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A jasmine wind in your
wrist caresses his pillow.

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When your lip touches
the tip of the glass,

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thousands of wild horses
begin to rush in his veins.

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Their whinnying blends with
the wine raining from above.

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The nude women on
horseback declare

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him a hedonistic prophet.

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You put the glass
back on the table.

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He wakes up, looks at his watch.

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In an hour, he will enter a
new day, like a long tunnel.