THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE 



erto unknown blind salamanders of the same 

 race as the one referred to above have burst out 

 along with the water from the depths. 



Fungus threads hang from the cave walls, 

 which in spite of their unquestionable plant na- 

 ture, now as parasites no longer require the light 

 of the sun, like the earth boring truffle, the mole 

 among the plants. Like a portion of the deep 

 sea animals, so here these nourish themselves 

 from the dead vegetable remains of wood and 

 humus particles, on microscopic diatomes, that 

 accidentally creep through the trickling water 

 into the cave and they themselves create in turn 

 the colorless meadow upon which the herbiver- 

 ous cave animals feed. They lead a silent ex- 

 istence, amid the ticking of countless water 

 clocks, deep in the sarcophagus of a light boast- 

 ing past — but with all the joys and sorrows of 

 a life that has triumphed over the dead. 



A moment suffices us to reach the light from 

 this confines of Tartarus and its living ghosts. 

 We press upwards through a dimly-lighted 

 shaft. The eye turns backward into the gloom 

 as into an eternal starless night. Even in this 

 night there suddenly appears something like a 

 soft green glow, flames flash across our yearn- 

 ing downward glance. Now they are gone; 

 there they come again. Has this cave, like the 

 deep sea, its illuminating animals? But we no- 

 tice that the light flames themselves, this Hme, 



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