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Watercolor by Werner Krumsiek, used with permission of artist



By Rudolf Trossen


The sun recedes, the summer wanes,
the ripe grapes long since gifted.
A chill arrives under the guise of evening wind,
Long shadows stretch heavy like lead
across golden vineyards' last light.


Alone on the slope,
I watch in silence.


But in old casks
churns young wine,
roaring with the summer’s solar might,
lust and longing into the night,
cheering, laughing, singing bright.


I bow before
the deity's vigor.


November 1994

From the collection Was die Reben Sagen

Translated  September 2021