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45
“It is possible only when one understands the lowest, the
least in oneself.”
“Can we be like that?” asked Francis.
“That depends on you. You only need strength, and need
not analyze uneasiness.”
On Sunday,
pan
Janovski and his sons strolled about
Vērman Garden. Played lotto in the pavilion. Lifted broad-
brimmed hats, upon meeting acquaintances. And those
numbered more than a few.
“Look, there go the unpretentious cupboard and table
friends! Look, how handsome they are, branchy, they’re
more alive than furniture. Good day, well-rooted stumps!”
Having said that,
pan
Janovski lifted his panama hat.
Trees, branches spread, strolled and smiled. Few knew
about their life, they were overly quiet. Though they did a
titan’s work, they themselves looked like titans, they were
embraced by titan flesh, and many hopes were dragged out
with the played-out blossoms.
When
pan
Janovski drank, he thinned his cabinet friends
with tears, and only bitter little rivulets slipped along the
branched bark, creating in passersby a feeling of contempt.