Портрет художника в юності

           Thisfuriousmusicallayedhisdreadand,leaningagainstthewindowledge,helethiseyelidscloseagain.

           TheydroveinajingleacrossCorkwhileitwasstillearlymorningandStephenfinishedhissleepinabedroomoftheVictoriaHotel.Thebrightwarmsunlightwasstreamingthroughthewindowandhecouldhearthedinoftraffic.Hisfatherwasstandingbeforethedressing-table,examininghishairandfaceandmoustachewithgreatcare,craninghisneckacrossthewater-juganddrawingitbacksidewaystoseethebetter.Whilehedidsohesangsoftlytohimselfwithquaintaccentandphrasing:

           ’Tisyouthandfolly

           Makesyoungmenmarry,

           Sohere,mylove,I’ll

           Nolongerstay.

           Whatcan’tbecured,sure,

           Mustbeinjured,sure,

           SoI’llgoto

           Amerikay.

           Myloveshe’shandsome,

           Myloveshe’sbony:

           She’slikegoodwhisky

           Whenitisnew;

           Butwhen’tisold

           Andgrowingcold

           Itfadesanddieslike

           Themountaindew.

           Theconsciousnessofthewarmsunnycityoutsidehiswindowandthetendertremorswithwhichhisfather’svoicefestoonedthestrangesadhappyair,droveoffallthemistsofthenight’sillhumourfromStephen’sbrain.