work with it out of fear of ~~"sullying" or~~ profaning

the "mental image" that I have of it, – and I might walk

about "living off" the "inner picture"; until it is completely

burned out, – and the only thing left is a sore spot:

a burn. – Over time there are many such sores.

They are perhaps small and harmless – yet annoyingly many like

the scars from a morphine injection, – they represent one’s guilty conscience.

They are things that could only have been done "back then"– at this – or that

specific point in time; – time was not a factor that was cal-

culated in the "moment of conception", – one believed that one

possessed it so certainly that it did not matter

if it was done immediately, – it had too be distilled, – one had to

think it over, – and then another thought sneaked its way in, saying that

if one could not retain it, – if it ~~made~~

did not make a strong enough impression, – as to prevent one from

forgetting something, – well then it was not worth creating something

out of it, – "it’s just as well that something was forgotten" – one might console

oneself, – it was something insignificant that had to be eliminated in any case,

– it was only that, which was lost. – But in fact one lost it all.

Except for the sore from the burn. My grey mundane life has, with its

many small sorrows, washed away the above, – or it has

fermented into nothing, – the last embers burned out, – before the work

was begun. –

Oh dear I have babbled on for so long now, that I should stop. I will travel to

Spain next month I think – have exchanged the grant for

Spanish pesetas. – In May-June I will travel to Berlin and Vienna – and possibly

Italy. Imagine if we could meet some day ^{(a winter day as you say)} in the South, but you would be

so sadly disappointed in my company. Live well then! I am reading your masterpiece again

– I must create a new species of Hydrangea – it will have two types of blossoms simultaneously (totally different –

both in shape and colour). Lisabetta’s flower must also change its shape – and gain a "double layer" as in your poem. –

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