If
with shame and bad conscience
One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
One of those criminals comes, squinting out over my garden,
Bridling at nature's pure fruit, punish the knave in his hindparts,
Using the stake which so red rises there at your loins.
Goethe - Erotica Romana
