The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea

Cover The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea
The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea
Yukio Mishima
He couldn’t think of anywhere else to go until late afternoon, when they had arranged to meet.
It was noon and the park was empty. The drinking fountain was overflowing, dyeing the stone walk a watery black; locusts were shrilling in the cypress trees. The harbor, sprawling toward the sea from the foot of the hill, rumbled thickly. But Ryuji painted out the noontime scene with reminiscences of night.
He relived the evening, paused to savor a moment, traced and traced again the night’s course. N
...ot bothering to wipe the sweat from his face, he picked absently at a piece of cigarette paper that clung to his lip while again and again his mind moaned: how could I have talked so goddam badly!
He hadn’t been able to explain his ideas of glory and death, or the longing and the melancholy pent up in his chest, or the other dark passions choking in the ocean’s swell. Whenever he tried to talk about those things, he failed. If there were times when he felt he was worthless, there were others when something like the magnificence of the sunset over Manila Bay sent its radiant fire through him and he knew that he had been chosen to tower above other men.
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