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I want to write to her serene skin,
to touch it free of fear.
To lose myself in the thickness of its interior,
to feel her dawn, fervent rapture.
Pleasure of overflowing joy,
a confident drizzle of its essence.
All this I long for with embracing yearning,
groaning trembling the truth of her torment.
She, the mistress of this uncertainty of mine,
passion that burns in verses of poetry.
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