Today I saw a woman plowing a furrow. Her hips are broad, like mine, for love, and she goes about her work bent over the earth. I caressed her waist; I brought her home with me. She will drink rich milk from my own glass and bask in the shade of my arbors growing pregnant with the pregnancy of love. And if my own breasts be not generous, my son will put his lips to hers, that are rich.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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