Through the course of generations br men brought the night into being. br In the beginning were blindness and dream br and thorns which gash the bare foot br and fear of wolves. br We shall never know who fashioned the word br for the interval of darkness br which divides the two half-lights. br We shall never know in what century it stood br for the starry spaces. br Others began the myth. br They made night mother of the tranquil Fates br who weave all destiny br and sacrificed black sheep to her br and the rooster which announced her end. br The Chaldeans gave her twelve houses; br infinite worlds, the Stoic Portico. br Latin hexameters molded her, br and Pascal’s dread. br Luis de León saw in her the homeland br of his shivering soul. br Now we feel her inexhaustible br as an old wine br and no one can think of her without vertigo, br and time has charged her with eternity. br br And to think that night would not exist br without those tenuous instruments, the eyes.