HOPE
Turn, turn the children
In this moving circle
Unceasingly and hold
The hands and sing, it is insane
To see little girls in joy
Threading between them like preys
Driven out by these devoted hunters
That are these grouped little boys
Bandaged eyes, tightening the hands
Running through the trees but
Admittedly this play is intended for the happy one Small which amuse like the impetuous ones
All, will be proud for us of good
To re-examine if we avoid well
Hatred, the war, conflicts
By preferring peace in a plain world
Turn, turn the children
In this moving circle
Unceasingly and hold
The hands and sing, it is insane
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