This is an automatically translated description

"Ripe, heavy bunches of grapes are staring at me from among the leaves. I pick them carefully, trying not to hurt at least the berries of someone else's soul, and at home I squeeze the juice out of them, which splashes everywhere.

У величезний бутель із грубого скла, що стоїть на видному місці, вперлося, аби перепочити, сонце — і сік заграв, зашумів, заговорив, забулькав… День, тиждень, місяць, а там, гляди, і вино вистоялося, очистилося, посвітліло та стало міцне й ароматне.

I sip it and remember every berry in particular, every melody of someone else, every word that fermented, crystallised in the vessel of my soul and poured out as a fertile intoxicating drink on paper.

I'm treating you to a fragrant drink, try it - it's delicious.