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Confessional

There was wine in a cup of goldand a girl of fifteen from Wu,her eyebrows painted darkand with slippers of red brocade.

If her conversation was poor,how beautifully she could sing!

Together we dined and drankuntil she settled in my arms.

Behind her curtainsembroidered with lotuses,how could I refusethe temptation of her advances?

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До головокруженья душно
Любовь как сон
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