The realists, who felt that these were kin,

gave freely, to their equals everywhere,

a space to grow, a place for living in —

a kinship in that separate realm of fin

and fish the dripping-Tritoned god ruled, where

he'd flood streams that were sometimes overflown.

They knew these creatures. They had always known

they weren't like fish, blood cold enough to freeze,

but blood of their warm blood, and by degrees,

inclining toward those human things — their own.

And somersaulting for pure pleasure's sake,

a pod came, glad to feel the glistening streams.

Affectionate and warm, they make their wake

a crown of confidence around the games

they lightly braid about the bow. They make

them wind as if around some urn they charm.

Carefree and happy, safe from every harm,

they're buoyant — rapt in all the hissing seams

of waves they stitch, their course the swift trireme's,

the swells’ the places they serenely take.

The captain welcomed this new friend they'd found

to sailors and their lonely world of fear.

And men devised it something they thought sound

and real: that dolphins, in some brave new sphere,

loved music, gods, and those who made the ground

bloom. And the deep and silent stellar year.

Die Insel der Sirenen

Wenn er denen, die ihm gastlich waren,

spät, nach ihrem Tage noch, da sie

fragten nach den Fahrten und Gefahren,

still berichtete: er wußte nie,

wie sie schrecken und mit welchem jähen

Wort sie wenden, daß sie so wie er

in dem blau gestillten Inselmeer

die Vergoldung jener Inseln sähen,

deren Anblick macht, daß die Gefahr

umschlägt; denn nun ist sie nicht im Tosen

und im Wüten, wo sie immer war:

Lautlos kommt sie über die Matrosen,

welche wissen, daß es dort auf jenen

goldnen Inseln manchmal singt —,

und sich blindlings in die Ruder lehnen,