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Full woman, carnal apple, hot moon...

Full woman, carnal apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light, 
what obscure clarity opens between your columns? 
What ancient night does man touch with his senses?

Ah, loving is a voyage with water and with stars, 
with drowning air and brusque storms of flour: 
loving is a battle of lightning ( Read more... )

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