Explore "Epithalamium" by Fernando Pessoa on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The bridegroom aches for the end of this and lusts / To know those paps in sucking gusts, / To put his first hand on that belly's hair / And feel for the lipped lair, / The fortress made but to be taken, for which / He feels the battering ram grow large and itch.
The trembling glad bride feels all the day hot / On that still cloistered spot / Where only her nightly maiden hand did feign / A pleasure's empty gain.