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As tired women languorously undress,
Summer divests her, breathing roses' scent;
The mirror in her closèd chamber bent
Palely reflects her easeful idleness.


One single beam through lowered blinds caresses
And gilds her chignon like a cake baked brown,
Her fragrant bosom that the sweat runs down
Out of her crumpled linen softly presses.


And while unto her feet her garments fall,
With brow bent backwards by her unbound tresses
The summer shuts her eyes, weighs and caresses
One of her breasts with hand mechanical.