Twisted forth, he made his move

She screamed

He moaned

Between the chasm

She stopped screaming and started to enjoy it

He thrust with pleasure

Filled with enthusiasm,

Mountains of pain passed,

But they did not care --

They were enjoying it...

He spread his seed...

A/N: Original poem:

The Serchio, twisting forth

Between the marble barriers which it clove

At Ripafratta, leads through the dread chasm

The wave that died the death which lovers love,

Living in what it sought; as if this spasm Had not yet passed, the toppling mountains cling,

But the clear stream in full enthusiasm

Pours itself on the plain, then wandering

Down one clear path of effluence crystalline Sends its superfluous waves, that they may fling

At Arno's feet tribute of corn and wine;

Then, through the pestilential deserts wild

Of tangled marsh and woods of stunted pine,

It rushes to the Ocean.

It's in public domain (PD).