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Iraida Mordovin


Lived fun ant.
Much he had friends,
Under high krucha,
In the ant heap.
All day long he toiled,
So comfortable was their house.
Hard work,
No end of concern:
Crumbs sweet to collect
And with flower pollen to get,
In an anthill to fetch,
Before the frost to accumulate.
In the house warm and dry,
But always dark.
No daylight
Even if the summer.
If the evening in the yard,
Ants in his hole.
All closed slit,
If it were a door.
Live amicably ants,
Under the birch tree in the shade,
Under high krucha,
In the ant heap.

Poems about insects: sorting
the names of the authors

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