.Il pleut.
Le soir descend.
Tombent les feuilles.
Orang?, le ciel.
Jaune, la terre.
Ce sont des mots d'enfant
Sur une feuille.
C'?tait un po?me pour lui plaire.
Regardez: c'est la neige,
Ces flocons qui voltigent.
C'est beau,
C'est l'hiver qui danse.
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