I kiss your knees that self-communing prayers chastize,I kiss your feet that would appease the open sea;I wish to plunge my head between your vital thighsand in your hair-shirt weep for my iniquity;there, my dear saint, in that oblivion of the dimChasm and the Boundless, rapt with scents vibrant and fresh,when I have finished softly chanting my long hymn,I shall assuage my torment on your wholesome flesh.
-Stéphane Mallarme
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