Sad enchantment devastates the heart,
All soul to want, only desire,
But no feeling or embarrassment,
Nothing excites the being, love not.
Valley the meat for its taste,
Supplies the will to have sex,
Does not give sighs hugged,
It sets to moan, and it shows it the face.
About this time, I think about me,
Only I discredited of another affection that exists,
That of the resignation it only consists.
Here it is I, that now thus acting,
Almost I complete me alone,
Exactly folloied in the nest.
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