#52759 - Here all the wisdom of the ages, All the customs of distant climes, All the mutterings of the sages And the happenings of our times Are set down in light and motion, In all their varied, rich array, So that neither word nor notion Need ever go astray. Her lips excel in sweetness That honey prized by bees, Her fingers, deft and dexterous, Inflame me with such ease. Now our love finds its season, Our passions grow and bloom, Our wits are lost, our reason Flees from the tower room.
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Shoukaku
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