Valery Bryusov

“Her face appeared to have grown paler, and it seemed as if there were a mocking insanity flaring up almost imperceptibly on her lips and in the azure of her eyes there lurked the insanity of grief. She was silent, and she waited for what her father would say.

And he spoke slowly, finding words almost with difficulty, 'Dearest, what did I hear? I did not expect this of you. Why did you do it?'

The Beauty bowed her head and said softly and sadly, 'Father, sooner or later all this will come to pass anyway.'

'Sooner or later?' asked the father as if in surprise. And he continued, 'Better late than sooner.'

'I am all aflame,' said the Beauty softly.

And the smile on her lips was like the reflection of some searing flame, and in her eyes there gleamed blue lightning, and her naked arms and shoulders were like some delicate vessel of alabaster, filled to the brim with a molten metal. Her firm breasts rose and fell impetuously, and two white waves strained forth from the tight confines of her dress, the delicate color of which was reminiscent of the yellowish rosiness of a peach. From beneath the folds of her short dress were visible against the dark green velvet of the rug and entwined by the pink ribbons of her gilded sandals her white and trembling legs.

("The Poison Garden")”
― Valery Bryusov, Silver Age of Russian Culture