Les vignes du Seigneur

A feverish voice lifts from the crowded streets of Paris, turning tavern lights into a stage for a relentless love affair with wine. The narrator, half‑poet and half‑drunk, summons “Ivresse” as both muse and tormentor, weaving lyrical invocations that taste of champagne, madère and the raw edge of desperation. Through a cascade of vivid images—broken bottles, reckless laughter, and the clatter of overturned chairs—the opening captures the chaotic charm of a night where desire and intoxication blur into one relentless pulse.

Beyond the city, the work shifts to the Médoc, a lush oasis of vineyards that rolls between sea and river. Here the landscape becomes a living character: towering pines, mist‑laden mornings, and endless rows of grapevines that echo the poet’s own restless spirit. The description balances the region’s bucolic beauty with hints of hidden sorcery and ancient reverence, inviting listeners to wander its fields and feel the pulse of a land where earth, water, and wine are inseparably entwined.