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Speak of an angel; One on earth a damsel. Search not deep or depth, Rather, bid your quest a farewell. The sight of her slakes all thirst, Thus, makes her the first. In the form of a queen she appears, Dashing through the aisle of pearls. Her gaze, too strong to behold, Her tale, once long told, Her voice, a jukebox of gold, Flourishing like a marigold. Search not further a queen, There’s one I’ve seen. Majestic is her sway along the way, Compared to a nightingale before the day. Mia signora, my lady, Puella, Her smile captivates my heart, Sending away all my fears, And the angel appears. ∞ ∞ ∞
— Cotek