Yes, I was my father and I was my son, I asked myself questions and answered as best I could, I had it told to me evening after evening, the same old story I knew by heart and couldn't believe, or we walked together, hand in hand, silent, sunk in our worlds, each in his worlds, the hands forgotten in each other. That's how I've held out till now. And this evening again it seems to be working, I'm in my arms, I'm holding myself in my arms, without much tenderness, but faithfully, faithfully. Sleep now, as under that ancient lamp, all twined together, tired out with so much talking, so much listening, so much toil and play.
The narrative reflects a profound internal dialogue, where the speaker embodies both his father and his son. He grapples with introspective questions while recalling the same stories that have shaped his understanding. Despite the familiarity, there remains a sense of disbelief and emotional distance between them, illustrating a complex relationship that exists in silence. The imagery of holding hands yet feeling estranged captures the essence of their connection, revealing a struggle for intimacy amidst personal worlds.
This evening, the speaker experiences a moment of self-embrace, finding solace within himself even without warmth. The act of holding oneself signifies a form of resilience and acceptance of one's existence. As the day transitions to night, there is a collective fatigue from the nuances of communication, both spoken and unspoken. The mention of the ancient lamp symbolizes enduring memories, hinting at the weight of history that binds them together through their shared experiences over time.
