Neither clown nor child nor black
nor verticle
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow:
t the sailor,
t tronaunt,
but t smile
he bird child,
and from the disorderly ocean
te passenger
emerges in snowy mourning.
I doubt the child bird
the cold archipelagoes
me s eyes,
s ancient ocean eyes:
it her arms nor wings
but tle oars
on its sides:
it ;
ter,
and it looked at me from its age:
since t exist;
I am a he sand.
t
remained in the sand:
the religious bird
did not need to fly,
did not need to sing,
and ts form was visible
its :
as if a vein from tter sea
had been broken.
Penguin, static traveler,
deliberate priest of the cold,
I salute your vertical salt
and envy your plumed pride.