Quand la corneille était blanche il a décidé que le soleil était trop blanc. Il a décidé qu'il a brillé beaucoup trop whitely. Il a décidé de l'attaquer et de le défaire.
Il a obtenu son éclat de force vers le haut et dans le plein scintillement. Il a griffé et fluffed sa fureur vers le haut. Il a visé son bec direct le centre du soleil.
Il s'est ri au centre de se
Et attaqué.
À son cri de bataille les arbres ont vieilli soudainement, des ombres aplaties.
Mais le soleil qu'éclairer-il a éclairé, et la corneille a renvoyé le noir carbonisé.
Il a ouvert sa bouche mais ce qui a sorti était noir carbonisé.
"vers le haut là," il a contrôlé, "où le blanc est noir et noir est blanc, j'a gagné."
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