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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 431/821
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On
the
smooth
jutting
beerpull
laid
Lydia
hand
,
lightly
,
plumply
,
leave
it
to
my
hands
.
All
lost
in
pity
for
croppy
.
Fro
,
to
:
to
,
fro
:
over
the
polished
knob
(
she
knows
his
eyes
,
my
eyes
,
her
eyes
)
her
thumb
and
finger
passed
in
pity
:
passed
,
reposed
and
,
gently
touching
,
then
slid
so
smoothly
,
slowly
down
,
a
cool
firm
white
enamel
baton
protruding
through
their
sliding
ring
.
With
a
cock
with
a
carra
.
Tap
.
Tap
.
Tap
.
I
hold
this
house
.
Amen
.
He
gnashed
in
fury
.
Traitors
swing
.
The
chords
consented
.
Very
sad
thing
.
But
had
to
be
.
Get
out
before
the
end
.
Thanks
,
that
was
heavenly
.
Where
’
s
my
hat
.
Pass
by
her
.
Can
leave
that
Freeman
.
Letter
I
have
.
Suppose
she
were
the
?
No
.
Walk
,
walk
,
walk
.
Like
Cashel
Boylo
Connoro
Coylo
Tisdall
Maurice
Tisntdall
Farrell
.
Waaaaaaalk
.
Well
,
I
must
be
.
Are
you
off
?
Yrfmstbyes
.
Blmstup
.
O
’
er
ryehigh
blue
.
Ow
.
Bloom
stood
up
.
Soap
feeling
rather
sticky
behind
.
Must
have
sweated
:
music
.
That
lotion
,
remember
.
Well
,
so
long
.
High
grade
.
Card
inside
.
Yes
.
By
deaf
Pat
in
the
doorway
straining
ear
Bloom
passed
.
At
Geneva
barrack
that
young
man
died
.
At
Passage
was
his
body
laid
.
Dolor
!
O
,
he
dolores
!
The
voice
of
the
mournful
chanter
called
to
dolorous
prayer
.
