260 chapter seven
we’d often pay our visits at dusk
open our cigarette cases open our mouths
open the window
there was a painting by yu jian nailed to the wall
many people disapproved
they only knew van gogh
old ka’s shirt was like a crumpled piece of cloth
we’d use for wiping the fruit juice off our hands
while he leafed through some dirty book
later he fell in love
and the two of them would often show up together
do their fighting there do their flirting there
one day they announced that they’d split up
their friends relaxed felt happy
but the next day he sent around wedding invitations
everyone was immaculately dressed went to attend the banquet
the table was always covered with zhu xiaoyang’s manuscripts
his handwriting went every which way
that bastard he watched us like the police
facing those red eyes of his
all we could do was be a bit vague
just like the poetry that was all the rage
li bo’s slippers would sit on fei jia’s shoes
he was already famous had a blue-sleeved membership card
he’d often lie back and rest his head on it
while he was telling us how to wear our shoes
how to take a leak how to wash our shorts
how to cook cabbage how to sleep and so on
in 82 he’d come back from beijing
in a new overcoat more profound than before
he had the inside stories from the literary scene
sounded like the chairman of the writers’ association
the tea was old wu’s the clock was old wu’s
the floorboards were old wu’s the neighbors were old wu’s
the missus was old wu’s the stomach medicine was old wu’s
the phlegm the cigarette butts the air the friends were old wu’sThe reader is asked to forgive my translation of ᠧᓔ♃ ‘turn on the
light’ as open the window. A literal rendition would be open the light; hence,