Chen Duxiu's exquisite description of women's breasts

"Ode to Breasts"
Breasts are milk. The things on a woman's chest, two in number, one on the left and one on the right. They begin to develop in adolescence, reaching maturity at sixteen. Hidden by day, they shine brightly at night. They are called: Mimi. They are called: Bobo. They are called: Twin Peaks. They are called: Flower Chamber. Since ancient times, heroes have fought for this place; since ancient times, beauties have dwelt in this gentle haven. What is their color? Deep winter snow. What is their texture? New summer cotton. What is their taste? Spring peaches and plums. What is their appearance? Rippling autumn waves. Moving like a timid jade rabbit, still like a languid white dove. High and firm, fleshy and trembling, pink and tender, dewy and lustrous. They steal the souls of heroes and ignite the allure of beauties. I bow my weary head, exploring your twin jade peaks, like a boat entering an alley, like an old man returning home. Shedding the cold wind and rain, I plunge into a vast ocean of warmth. Deeply embraced, gently swaying, intoxicated, soaring.

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Chen Duxiu's exquisite description of women's breasts

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