The Benedictine scents and stains
the languor of your pallid lips;
My kiss shall be a bee that sips
A fainting roseleaf flushed with rains.
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Wow, here is a fellow who was born a century time ago, when this hidden message was publicly an unrest...
And he knows first hand the secret pleasures of desire.
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Wow, here is a fellow who was born a century time ago, when this hidden message was publicly an unrest... And he knows first hand the secret pleasures of desire.