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How much passion there is in your body, woman,
that the sun kneels to see you blossom.
Your skin is a volcano where the ember is born,
and desire, trembling, in your embrace passes.
Your laughter is an echo of distant stars,
whispers of the moon in the darkest nights.
You are fire that glows in the shadow as it falls,
an indomitable song that invites to love.
Your eyes, oceans of urgent dreams,
keep secrets of latent worlds.
Flames dance in your burning veins,
your heartbeats are echoes of brave loves.
How much passion there is in your walk, in your being,
each step you take, a poem to weave.
You are fertile soil, rain in the desert,
an eternal sigh that embraces the certain.