MS-HRC-SB-5-9-2

[1161] this place again, where my jar stands on its
pedestal, with its garland of many-coloured
lanterns, and me inside it,
I couldn't cling to it.

[1162] ^{They will perhaps have me struck}

[1162] They will perhaps have
me struck with lightning, for a change, or
poleaxed, one merry bank-holiday evening,
then bundled in a shroud and whisked away,
out of sight and mind.

[1163] Or they will have me
removed alive, cleared away, for a change,
and deposited elsewhere, at all hazards.
[1164] And on my next appearance, if ever I appear again,
all will be new, all will seem strange to me.

[1165] But little by little I'll get used to it, with their
help, used to the place, used to me, and little
by little the old problem will raise its horrid head,
how to live, ^{with their kind of life,} for a single second, young or old,
without help or guidance.

[1166] And being thus
reminded of other attempts, under other con-
ditions, I shall start asking myself questions,
helped by them, prompted by them, like those
I have just been asking, concerning me, and them, and these
sudden changes of time and age, and how
to succeed at last where I had always failed,

[1166] so that they may be pleased, and perhaps leave
me in peace at last, and free to do what I want, namely try
and please the other, if that is what I want,

[1166] so that he may be pleased, and leave me at
peace, and give me quittance, and the right
to rest, and to silence, if that is in
his gift.

[1167] It's a lot to expect from one
creature, it's a lot to demand of him,
that he should first behave as if he ^{was not}
, then as if he ^was, before being
admitted to that peace where he neither is, nor
is not, and ^where the language dies that reduces
one to such expressions.

[1168] Two falsehoods,
two apparels, to suffer to the end, before I
can be let loose, alone, in the unthinkable
unspeakable, where I have not ceased to
be, where they will not let me be.

[1169] It will
perhaps be less restful than I seem to think,
alone there at last, and never importuned.
[1170] No matter, rest is one of their words, think
is another.[1171] But here at least, it seems
to me, is food for delirium.[1172]