Analysis of Swans

Let us gather our tears in musty barrels,
Juice crushed from fruit of old vines,
To bottle, lay down in cool, dark places,
And when it becomes a supple potion,
Redolent with fragrance of violets and oak,
Fill our glasses, raise them together,
And bathed in the glow of their burgundy lenses,
Drink.
             Dropping everything
We will soar across turgid skies,
Swans, high above the slumbering trees,
Journeying to a land of fair wind and calm sea
Where we can dance on the soft sand
Locked in embrace, heads thrown back,
Burning in the light of the moon
And a million stars.