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.