Wine

Here’s a poem about wine by William Butler Yeats, an Irish poet.

Wine comes in at the mouth

And love comes in at the eye;

That’s all we shall know for truth

Before we grow old and die.

I lift the glass to my mouth,

I look at you, and I sigh.


I’ve heard a saying – wine is born for women. At my age of 21, I’ve only drunk wine twice – once with my mom on her 46th birthday, the other at NAPA valley for a drinking test. From then on, I believed in the saying.

It has something to do with the color – red, which represents fascination and passion. At the first sight of a structured wine, it’s like a young girl who doesn’t have much experience in life. The light could come through the red color in the bottle. As the wine stays longer, the color goes darker, just as girls start to absorb all the sadness and happiness.

For the first time I tasted wine, I was sitting at a round table with my mother on her 46th birthday. She held a glass in the left hand. I could clearly remember the reflection of the red color on her face because the light flashed back. She was telling me all the hardships that she went through starting from her twenties. Because of that special moment, I grew to know a women, with a bottle of wine.

A shot of wine bar at Beringe, Napa Valley, California, on August, 2012.

The second time, I visited the Beringer wine cellar in Napa Valley, California. I saw hundreds of barrels lying underground. I was amazed. When asked to make a drinking test, I couldn’t even tell how it is different from the previous wine I’ve tasted. In a different environment, the taste and feeling, all changed. The longer the barrels lie down, the better the wine could be. Suddenly it reminded of the lyric: How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man? The same to wine, how long must a barrel lies down before you call it wine?

Isn’t it interesting?

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