A fourth said, “How great is Neptune, but how cruel is his heart! Were I the queen of the seas, I would not be pleased with bloody sacrifices. Come, I will show you the corpse of this youth. Perhaps we will learn something of the tribe of man.”

The daughters of the sea surrounded the body of the youth and began to search his clothes. They found a letter in a pocket next to his heart and read:

“My love, it is midnight. I sit wakeful with no one to comfort me save my tears, nothing to console me save my hope that you will return to me from among the talons of war. I can think of nothing save what you said to me when we parted, that each person is entrusted with a tear, which he must someday return. I do not know, my love, what it is that I write. I give my soul leave to flow onto the paper—a soul is tormented by misery and consoled by love that transforms pain into pleasure and sorrows into joy. . . When love united our hearts and we awaited the union of our two bodies in a single spirit, the war called you and you obeyed, compelled by necessity and patriotism. But what is this necessity that separates lovers and makes women into widows and children orphans? What is this patriotism that turns small causes into a war that will destroy countries? What is this necessity that binds the poor villager but does not trouble the powerful or the aristocrat? If necessity destroys peace among nations and patriotism troubles the quiet of human life, then farewell to necessity and patriotism! No, no, my love! Pay no attention to my words. Rather be brave and love your country. Do not listen to the words of a girl blinded by love, whose vision is clouded by separation. If love does not return you to me in this life, then love will unite me with you in the life to come.”

The daughters of the sea replaced that letter in the youth’s pocket and swam away in silent sorrow. When they were far away, one of them said, “Truly man’s heart is crueler than the heart of Neptune!”

O NIGHT

O NIGHT

Night of lovers, poets, musicians!

Night of phantoms, spirits, ghosts!

Night of passionate longing and remembrance!

Giant standing among the petty clouds in the West, among the brides of the morn, girded with a fearful sword, rolling with the moon, robed in silence, staring with a thousand eyes into the depths of life, listening with a thousand ears to the last breath of death and non-being!

You are the darkness that shows us starlight, though the brightness of the day veils us in the darkness of earth.

You are the hope that opens our eyes before infinity’s awe, but the day is a delusion that makes us as blind men in the world of finite quantities.