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poetry for kid

mlancolie, bleu il tait
ami, dont le sourire est venu pour tre
il est venu me prendre par la main
c'est le bateau de la perle
les ombres des bateaux
sommeil, frre gris de la mort
voici se trouver une dame la plus belle
dans ma main je me tiens
la noblesse de la mort encore
ville qui n'est pas une ville

 



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