Reed stems and wrinkles of ancient stone
Smell of beast, print of prey
Nothing else sees my prone sight
If bent is my back
If only I could straighten the neck over the fronds
And keep upright the body, opposed to the wind
I try and fall and try
And upright I stand for a moment
The shout thunders all over the whole vault
Up to the volcanoes it rises, and then I stay to see
And they drink, my eyes, the flights, the jumps
My forests and the others [men]
And where air at the bottom touches the sea
The sight upright can see