Russian writer Maxim Gorky once wrote this poem:
Over the vast sea, fierce winds gathered dark clouds. Between the clouds and the sea, a storm petrel soared proudly like a black bolt of lightning.
One moment its wings brushed the waves; the next, it shot toward the dark clouds like an arrow. It cried out—and in that brave cry, the dark clouds heard joy.
In that cry was a thirst for the storm! In that cry, the dark clouds heard the strength of anger, the flame of passion, and faith in victory.
Before the storm arrived, the seagulls moaned and moaned, darting over the sea, trying to hide their fear of the storm in its depths.
The sea ducks moaned too. Those sea ducks could not enjoy the joy of life's battle; the rumbling thunder alone was enough to frighten them senseless.
The stupid penguins timidly hid their fat bodies beneath the cliffs... Only the proud storm petrel flew bravely and freely over the foam-flecked sea!
Thunder roared. The waves cried out amid furious spray, competing with the gale. Look—the gale tightly embraced layer after layer of towering waves, then viciously hurled them against the cliffs, smashing those great emerald masses into mist and fragments.
The storm petrel cried and flew, like black lightning, piercing the dark clouds like an arrow, its wings skimming up the sea spray.
Look, it danced like a spirit—the proud, black spirit of the storm. It laughed, then howled again... It laughed at those dark clouds, and howled with joy!
Georgiana sat in the greenhouse, looking at the sky thick with dark clouds beyond the glass and the seabirds still soaring through the sky despite the bitter cold, then stroked Mango's brilliant feathers.
"We are all penguins," she said to Mango. "We don't dare fly