Let's start at the beginning: -What do we call women? In general, every girl who has reached the age of 18 (I say in general)! But what do I ask or when does she grow up from the girl? Either way I was looking for an answer in the interet, or I found no clear answer in the written press, so I turned to the literature because if someone can really say Well, those poets. Here's a little taste of Hungarian poets: - A Partly Kissed Kiss (Angol) The burning fire of a partly kissed kiss is flaming ahead. The night is so cold. We sometimes run, in tears only run and never get there. How many times we stop. Embrace and hug. On fire, then frozen up. You’ve thrusted me off - my lips are bleeding, Your lips are bleeding. Tonight again no love. With a kiss completed we would be dead in pleasure and peace . But we need that kiss, but we need that fire. And we say sadly, tomorrow. Tomorrow, maybe. What was her blondness like? I cannot recall… What was her blondness like? I know that fields are blonde when summer yields Grain in abundance on every yellow spike And I can feel her blondness in the fields. How blue her eyes were? I cannot remember But when the autumn opens up the skies Close by the languid farewell of September I muse about the colour of her eyes. Her silken voice is now beyond recalling, But when the Spring comes and the meadows sigh, I feel that Anna's words are gently calling Me from a Spring-time distant as the sky.