I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
In marble walls as white as milk, Lined with skin as soft as silk, In a fountain crystal clear, A golden treasure does appear. There are no doors to this stronghold, Yet thieves break in and steal the gold.
I am small as an ant and big as a whale, I can soar through the air like a bird with a tail. I can be seen by day and not by night, I can be seen with a big flash of light. I follow whoever controls me by the sun, but I fade away when dark fell like a ton.