“El Desdichado” doesn’t quite work through melancholy but gives form and refuge to it.

And I wondered if I was awake or asleep, if it was the moon's paleness or Lucifer's, if it was midnight or dawn!

When the class that, unbeknownst to our age, we continue to attend, truly reaches its end, night falls on the self. What’s the use of clarifying it, full of tears?