There is a lot of copulation
In the world mostly seasonal
And a lot of cupolas
Scattered among them
And hidden narrow streets
In the cities of music
Leftover from the Romans
Who lost the refinement of the Greeks
When love got confused with passion
What to make of a body
Which is our whole concern
Why else come to earth
But when I say I love you
I do mean it all of you
Our bodies bundles of light
And our trembling souls
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