21 JUNE 1963, Page 20

The Burden

I can't carry you much further,

my life. You are becoming a bother it seems pointless to cope with any longer.

If I could, I'd hand you over to a stranger, as one might old books, shoes, clothing which has grown to mean nothing, with the passing of years, but a bundle of memories, cares one longs to get rid of, not the least of these, love.

Yes, if I could, I'd hand you over to whoever it might be though he should find a use for you in his study, garden, and come in the end to regard you as a burden.