Revenge (I)
Lu Xun, Dec. 20, 1924
Tr. Huiwen Zhang, Dec. 2013
The
thickness of human skin, probably less than 1/10 inch; bright red hot blood
following precisely underneath it through vessels that are even denser than the
densely layered silkworms climbing up a wall, surges, shedding warmth. Thus each with this warmth bewitches,
incites, and tugs the other, with all their might desiring to cuddle, to kiss,
to embrace, so as to gain life’s sinking, intoxicating euphoria.
But
if using a sharp-pointed sword, one single strike, piercing the peach-red,
tenuous skin, bright red hot blood will spray arrows and with all its warmth
immediately flood the slaughterer; then, touching him with icy breath, showing
him pale lips, will cause him to lose all his humanity and gain life’s soaring,
climaxing euphoria; as for the slaughtered, he himself will be perpetually
immersed in life’s soaring, climaxing euphoria.
This way, therefore, the two of them, stark
naked, gripping swords, stand facing each other in the vast wilderness.
The
two of them about to embrace, about to slaughter….
Passers-by
hurry here from all directions, densely layered, like silkworms climbing up a
wall, like ants ready to haul away a cured fish head. Their clothes are all pretty, their hands,
however, empty. Yet they hurry here from
all directions and with all their might stretch their necks to enjoy and
examine the embrace or slaughter. They
already fore-feel the later fresh taste of the sweat or blood on their own
tongues.
Yet
the two of them stand facing each other in the vast wilderness, stark naked,
gripping swords, but not embracing, not slaughtering, not even revealing an
intention to embrace or slaughter.
The
two of them remain this way ‘til eternity, round, limber bodies already about
to wither, but revealing not even the least intention to embrace or slaughter.
Passers-by
thus get bored; they feel boredom drilling into their pores, drilling out of
their own hearts through their pores, climbing all over the wilderness, and
drilling in turn into others’ pores.
They thus feel dry throats and tongues, as well as tired necks, so that
eventually they look at one another in blank dismay and slowly walk away, even
feel so withered that they lose life’s joy.
Thus
left behind is only the vast wilderness. Yet the two of them in it, stark naked,
gripping swords, stand withered; with the gaze of the dead enjoying and
examining the witheredness of the passers-by, a bloodless slaughter, the two of
them perpetually immersed in life’s soaring, climaxing euphoria.
