Chapter VII: A Swan

My robe is noiseless when I roam the earth,
Or stay in my home, or stir up the water.
At times I am lifted o'er the lodgings of men
By the aid of my trappings and the air above.
5 The strength of the clouds then carries me far,
Bears me on its bosom. My beautiful ornament,
My raiment rustles and raises a song,
Sings without tiring. I touch not the earth
But wander a stranger over stream and wood.