Touch the rough ice below my feet,
squat on its pearly surface.
Wind, bring what you will
with the grunt and the bawl of the walrus.
The lower jaw of a whale, they say –
look into the teeth of the gale;
mountains, distant and sharp,
I fear your glaciers as I fear their whales.
A pale blue restless ocean knows
that to move is not to freeze.
O water rest and sleep,
’Tis only we humans stiff’ning by degrees.
A feath’ry plume jets from my mouth,
the frosty sun peeps through;
sun give your little warmth –
with its walls the frozen sky
heat my little igloo.