You mustn't show weaknessand you've got to have a tan.
But sometimes I feel like the thin veilsof Jewish women who faintat weddings and on Yom Kippur.
You mustn't show weaknessand you've got to make a listof all the things you can loadin a baby carriage without a baby.
This is the way things stand now:if I pull out the stopperafter pampering myself in the bath,
I'm afraid that all of Jerusalem, and with it the whole world,will drain out into the huge darkness.
In the daytime I lay traps for my memoriesand at night I work in the Balaam Mills,turning curse into blessing and blessing into curse.
And don't ever show weakness.
Sometimes I come crashing down inside myselfwithout anyone noticing.
I'm like an ambulanceon two legs, hauling the patientinside me to Last Aidwith the wailing of cry of a siren,and people think it's ordinary speech.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell
