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poetry for kid

pourquoi si triste mon bel?
il y a une heure du repos paisible
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
frère, je suis le feu
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
mi plaisirs et palais bien que nous puissions errer
vous a fait voient jamais un alligator

 



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