I have no concern with that wine from which the heart remains estranged; my desire is only for that wine which is distilled within the heart itself.

Here, wine is not a worldly drink from a tavern, but a metaphor for true spiritual passion and heartfelt ecstasy. The poet brushes aside any external or superficial intoxication that leaves the soul cold and untouched. His real longing is for that rare, sacred wine which is distilled internally from the deep churn of love, pain, and sincerity within one's own heart.