Magellanic Penguin
and through its form was visible
and it looked at me from its age:
there in the cold archipelagoes
dressed in night and snow:
the religious bird
remained in the sand:
and from thttp://www.99lib.nethe disorderly ocean
but the child child does not smile
had been broken.
the reasons for my respect
and envy your plumed pride.
the immaculate passenger
did no九*九*藏*书*网t need to sing,
and a questioning innocence
as if a vein from the bitter sea
the fisherman at the astronaunt,
Penguin, static traveler,
it had neither arms nor wings
it was www.99lib.netas old as the salt;
when it looked at me with its eyes,
its wild soul bled salt:
Pablo Neruda
when he looks at the bird child,
deliberate priest of the cold,
Magellanic Penguinhttp://www•99lib•net
nor white but verticle
on its sides:
the age of moving water,
I am a worm in the sand.
emerges in snowy mourning.
with its ancient ocean eyes:
I salute 藏书网your vertical salt
The mother smiles at the sailor,
I was without doubt the child bird
but hard little oars
since then I know I do not exist;
did not need to fly,
Neither clown nor child nor black