Twisted forth, he made his move
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).