Namesake of a sin, proud appellation,
first of all fauna to be called one of the seven deadliest.

But accolades are wasted,
for he gives no thought to our impressions,
indeed he has no thoughts at all.
Alga is his second skin,
and so greened he slips by unnoticed.
A corona of moths
flitters about him waiting
for the weekly drop of dung.
And when he goes, he goes, and the caterpillars will soon feast.

Our forest sluggard makes much industry
for the enterprising.
Claw by monotonous claw he climbs,
while the sleek jaguar downs a gracile deer.
Claw by monotonous claw,
while the eagle swoops down a leaping capuchin.
Claw by monotonous claw,
but none touch him,
almost as if the jungle bullies

have their minimum standards,
so he can safely hang
upside down, above it all, in his sleaziness.
He survives,
and that is all that nature requires;
only human nature contrives
a purpose other than the passing of genes.