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p. 103


Mnasidika's great eyes, how you delight me when desire darkens your lids and fires you and drowns you in its tears!

How wild you make me when you turn aside, distracted by some passing lovely girl, or by a memory which is not my own.

Then my cheeks grow hollow, my hands tremble and I suffer. . . It seems to me my life blood slips away, before your eyes, from every part of me.

Mnasidika's great eyes, oh, do not cease to feast yourselves on me! or I'll prick you with my needle, and you'll see nothing but the dreadful night.

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