Sad and disheartened, taking notes
On the approaching secret darkness.
The owl watches.
Retaining a gravely impressive manner
Singular in wisdom and isolation,
He excites admiration.
His loss of spirit, his loss of hope
Occurs in the night,
Active only in the concealment of the gloom-dreary
Remoteness of himself.
Dejected from being alone,
Wise because of it,
The solemn Count establishes existence
On the pretext of strong claws —
To seize comprehension and other animals.
At dusk the secret darkness begins,
The owl moves and comes upon me.