Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I remain in Douro Valley I was not born to make wine. I was born to listen to it. In the Douro, the land is not ground it is memory, carved in schist, a silence that speaks softly to those who know how to stay. They told me to produce. To grow. To compete. But the Douro was never about speed. Never about numbers. Never about volume. Here, every vine is a story written slowly by time. And I… I do not own it. I only guard it. I do not seek perfection. I seek truth. The truth of the grape, of the year, of the rain that never came or the sun that stayed too long. Because a true wine is not corrected it is embraced. I stand for a whole Douro. Without concessions. Without dilution. Without forgetting where it comes from. From the berry… to the spirit. And if the world wishes to understand, let it come slowly. Let it touch the soil. Let it listen to the silence. Because the Douro is not explained. It is felt. And I… I remain here. Waiting for the wine to say what words never can. Victor Marques Wine grower Douro Portugal
0
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 5:10 PM UTC
I remain in Douro Valley
I remain in Douro Valley I was not born to make wine. I was born to listen to it. In the Douro, the land is not ground it is memory, carved in schist, a silence that speaks softly to those who know how to stay. They told me to produce. To grow. To compete. But the Douro was never about speed. Never about numbers. Never about volume. Here, every vine is a story written slowly by time. And I… I do not own it. I only guard it. I do not seek perfection. I seek truth. The truth of the grape, of the year, of the rain that never came or the sun that stayed too long. Because a true wine is not corrected it is embraced. I stand for a whole Douro. Without concessions. Without dilution. Without forgetting where it comes from. From the berry… to the spirit. And if the world wishes to understand, let it come slowly. Let it touch the soil. Let it listen to the silence. Because the Douro is not explained. It is felt. And I… I remain here. Waiting for the wine to say what words never can. Victor Marques Wine grower Douro Portugal
Douro winegrower land
victor-marques
Written by
Portuguese
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 5:10 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem