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Mouse
you, little uninvited pest
made your stronghold in my room sneaking in, creeping out never stopping to say “hello” it was only this evening when I saw your illustrious name listed beside that of Donald Duck on the TV that I realized you were a movie star that was the end of my peace of mind there was a mouse in my room like a lump growing inside my body many times I’d been to the hospital but they’d never found anything half a steamed bread bun had been sawn away there were suspicious black specks in my rice who, after all, was the culprit? I became more cautious ears straining to hear the slightest noise listening to cupboards listening to floorboards of course, I tracked down those small but solid sounds but I had no way of knowing for sure whether the little runt was nibbling on my favourite clothes or gnawing away at antiques left to me by my grandfather you were always so light on your feet it was almost as if you wanted to spare my feelings my mother’s mother used to be like this in the middle of windy nights she would quietly get out of bed and close all the windows you dance on cakes piss on tablets the books I like are riddled with gaping wounds but when it came to the crunch, you had no idea what made a noise and what didn’t so when you knocked over my chinaware which then jumped to the ground from a great height you triggered, much to your surprise, an earthquake that startled me from dreams on tip-toes unable to fly into a rage having to be lighter on my feet than you I felt my way from the bed-head to the book-shelf worried that you would hear me like you were in the middle of writing something not to be disturbed but I was clumsier than you in the end, I knocked over a chair panicked, I looked left and right ashamed of something, it seemed in fact, you, you little runt, were probably already fast asleep after a drink of milk and a change of bedroom hiding in your hole eyes like a couple of black beans, twitching in your head watching me, big and lumbering stark naked stripped of all poise and learning about what I looked like at night you kept quiet in this you were different from your father this quality of yours put me in an unbearable position I couldn’t stand it any longer I knocked and poked at random hell-bent on a thorough search to arrest you and to put you to death but when I saw the massive articles of furniture around me and the bunkers concealed within countless household odds and ends frustration got the better of me and not knowing what to do I called off the hunt outsiders were under the mistaken impression that I had the room to myself that I was calm and steady devoted to study actually, I was a nervous wreck I avoided going out I’d hurry home as soon as work was over and, once inside, start opening cupboards and cases checking up on that rotten bastard who always kept me guessing to see what new tricks he’d played on me 1988 |
© 2000, Yu Jian From: Yu Jian de shi Publisher: Renmin wenxue chubanshe, Beijing, ISBN: 7 02 003328 8 |
© Translation: 2003, Simon Patton |