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And she meets me with a slender waist, thin as the twisted leathern nose-rein of a camel./ Her form is like the stem of a palm-tree bending over from the weight of its fruit./ In the morning, when she wakes, the particles of musk are lying over her bed./ She sleeps much in the morning; she does not need to gird her waist with a working dress./ She gives with thin fingers, not thick, as if they were the worms of the desert of Zabi,/ In the evening she brightens the darkness, as if she were the light-tower of a monk
The Poem of Imru al Quais, from The Mu'allaqat

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