Read it through once

He went on scolding me for some time, and then said: “Well, now you are here, you must make a poem. It is one of the days when the parent’s[9] poem is always made by a substitute. You will do as well as anybody; so be quick about it....” I was afraid at first that if I showed myself he would behave in such a way as to make me feel very uncomfortable. But it turned out that he was not so extraordinarily drunk after all; indeed, he was in a very charming mood and, in the light of the great lamp, looked particularly handsome.’