With no further doubts in my slimy, exhausted throbbing body,
I,the prostitute of shameless senses, of flamboyant pleasures of world,
Hereby proclaim.
To the stranded traveller in the realm of pitiless present,
To those who know it, how to crave, how to wonder and how to die.
Here I proclaim.
What comes out from the depth of absurdity, stench of logic,
Thread of `conditioning.
I proclaim thus,
O! Death is born out of beauty and beauty alone.
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