A lonely swan from the sea flies,
To alight on puddles it does not deign.
Nestling in the poplar of pearls,
It spies and questions green bird twain.
"Don't you fear the threat of slings,
perched on top of branches so high?
Nice clothes invite pointing fingers,
High climbers god's good will defy,
Bird hunters will crave me in vain,
For I roam the limitless sky."
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