Jun
Tales of the scholars speak noble words,
Of the mistress of the earth,
Crying tears on those who implore,
About those who have the gift of birth.
She'll whisper and talk,
With a lonely seduction,
Holding the clouds in her bosom,
Hoping and hugging with her stomach.
She will hope and wish,
When the time it takes,
Walking and talking,
Until her water breaks.
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