Thirty-First EveningThe wind blew stormy and cold, the clouds flew hurriedly
past; only for a moment now and then did the Moon become visible.
He said, "I looked down from the silent sky upon the driving
clouds, and saw the great shadows chasing each other across the
earth. I looked upon a prison. A closed carriage stood before it; a
prisoner was to be carried away. My rays pierced through the grated
window towards the wall; the prisoner was scratching a few lines
upon it, as a parting token; but he did not write words, but a
melody, the outpouring of his heart. The door was opened, and he
was led forth, and fixed his eyes upon my round disc. Clouds passed
between us, as if he were not to see his face, nor I his. He
stepped into the carriage, the door was closed, the whip cracke
