Epitaph
Lu Xun, 6/17/1925
Tr. Huiwen Zhang, Oct. 2012; updated Jan. 2014
I dream of myself standing opposite a gravestone, reading the
engraving. The gravestone appears to be made of sand and gravel, many layers
flaking, overgrown with patches of moss, retaining only line fragments—
“…in the heated frenzy of a grandiose choir, froze; in the heavens saw an abyss. In all eyes saw nothingness; in hopelessness found salvation…
“…There was a wandering spirit that turned into a serpent with
poisonous fangs. Instead of biting into others, it bit into its own body until
it finally fell dead…
“... Leave! ...”
I circle around to the back of the gravestone, and then I see an
orphan mound, with no greenery over it, already caving in. Through a large
opening I suddenly glimpse a corpse, chest and gut cut open, heart and liver
gone. Yet the face bearing no sign of grief or joy was but as hazy as smoke.
Having not yet altogether turned away in fear and apprehension, I
catch sight of maimed lines on the stone's dark side—
“… dug out my heart to eat, yearning to know its true taste. The
torment too ruthlessly intense, so how to know the true taste? ...
“… once the torment dulled, ate my heart tranquilly. Already too stale,
so how to know the true taste? …
“… Answer me. Otherwise, leave!...”
I am about to leave. Yet the corpse in the grave has already sat
up, mouth and lips still, yet saying–
“Wait until I turn to dust, and then you
shall see my smile!”
I hurry away, not daring to
glance back, terrified of seeing him follow.
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