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A Poem about Prostitution


When I was young and had no sense
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.


Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said, "for twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me".


She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.


by George Orwell

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