An ocean whose waves reach Eternity's shore,
Rolls silently on; not a sound is heard
Of the wrecks that go down in its depths profound,
To rest on its bed and are heard of no more.
Oh, Ento, thy children so loved, so deplored,
Ever fade from our sight never more to return,
And in measureless anguish we cry unto Thee:
Spare, spare us our dear ones, Andûmana, dread Lord.
Around us are falling, like leaves from the trees,
Our loved ones, our friends whose forms are so dear
That we wear them as jewels enshrined in our hearts,
And yield them to Death, so Andûmana decrees.
Oh, pitiful gods! Andûmana implore.
To succor His children who lie at His feet,
And cry in their anguish and deep despair:
Give lack to our arms our loved ones once more.
De L'Ester—As I have done my best, I shall not apologize for my unmeritorious translation of Genessano's meritorious poem, which voices the ceaseless cry of Ento's sorrowful peoples.
Gentola—Genessano, my friend, so worshipful is my love for my dearest ones, that I understand the emotion impelling you to give expression to this wail of despair. When this dear boy, journeying by my side, passed into the world of spirits, only my knowledge of a continuity of conscious existence sustained me under my sudden bereavement, so I rejoice that the time draws near when the peoples of Ento may come into a knowledge of this consoling truth.
Genessano—Oh, Ento! beloved Ento! I too, rejoice that ere long the shadows which have so obscured thy spiritual radiance shall drift away from thee, even as under the golden beams of Diafon-evoiha the mists of dawn drift from off thy fair face. Hail to thee! Hail to thee Ento, thou beauteous world of the starry realms of space! With exultant heart I gaze on thee, for soon in thy spirit realms the glad words will be heralded that the day of thy rejoicing has come; that henceforth the eyes of thy downcast children shall be filled with the light of a joy divine, the joy of knowing that death of the physical body releases into a higher life—the immortal self. Only those who have loved, lost and sorrowed for the dear ones gone into endless silence can comprehend the joy that pervades my Being as I realize the ineffable gladness that soon will fill the hearts of the peoples of Ento.
De L'Ester—Gentola̤, you perceive how enthused we all are over, I may say, the certainty of the success of our mission, which is ours only in the sense that we are assisting others who, like ourselves, are interested in the righteous undertaking.
Yes, all greatly beneficent enterprises for the uplifting of humanity of any planet originate in the spirit realms. You are aware that on our planet all persons are not equally receptive, which is the same as saying that they are not equally sensitive. The same is true of the peoples of other planets. The law of Being is universal, but, through heredity, which is the sum of preceding existences, also through the influences of social and other conditions always, among all peoples, there are individuals apparently ahead of their time. Not through their own desire, but through conditions, to which I have alluded, the most dominant being ecclesiastical repression. As a whole, the Entoans are very positive, but among the ascetic priesthood are individuals so sensitive that, like Dano, Lēta and others, they are impelled to manifest it. These are they who apparently are ahead of their time; in reality they are the forerunners of spiritual upheavals, not of to-day, perhaps not of to-morrow, but of a time that surely will come.
Largely through their ardently affectionate nature the Entoans are growing approachable. Love and sorrow are retorts in which are consumed the dross of human passions, beliefs and prejudices. Thus, through their love and their sorrow, their souls are unfolding for the reception of spiritual influences and the perception of spirit presences.
We have so loitered that Zenesta̤ Ha̤o, who awaits us yonder at the Galarēsa̤, well may have grown impatient. Loha̤û emano, Loha̤û.
Zenesta Hao—Friends, you are late. What has so delayed you?