A gossamer interwoven across Turkish, French, English, German, Persian, and Arabic.

Wiled and beguiled by the cadger who badgers, prowling and crawling around the windows of widow’s lodger with codgers, dighted with certain curtains, blighted its doors by bludgeons of irascible and impassible troubadours, clearly in high dudgeon, merely flustered by blusters of yore of boredom — yclept unkempt, stenched French poet, yet not once danced by chance to quenched his thirst for being cursed, immersed in a first reversed and unrehearsed verse, he scrawled as he sprawled over a couch, slouching not crouching, as no one vouched for his pouch, for his lover covered in slush who blushes in fresh adored and lush swards when her brash eyelashes thrash him and smash him to the ground in a mound, in which the sound of him galling falling recalls her to brawls of enthralling squall.

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