Chapter 13 severed finger

severed finger In an old, dusty bookcase, I keep a severed finger in a bottle of alcohol; Whenever I am bored looking for ancient books, It sadly recalls a memory that makes me sad. This is the severed finger of a friend of mine who has died, it is pale and emaciated, Like my friend; haunts me often, and is distinct, It was the scene when he handed this severed finger to me: "Keep for me the remembrance of this ridiculous and poor love, in the scattered life, It is only adding to my misfortune. ’ His words were soothing, composed, Like a sigh, and there seemed to be tears in his eyes, though a smile was on his face.

I don't know about his "ridiculous love affair", All I know is that he was arrested in a workman's house; torture followed, Then the prison of misery, then the death penalty, That awaits the death penalty for all of us. I don't know about his "ridiculous love affair", he never talked about it to me, Even when drunk.But I guess it must be a sad story, He hid it, he wanted it to be forgotten along with the severed finger. The severed finger is still stained with traces of ink base, it is red, Is lovely brilliant red, it is brilliant on this truncated finger,

Just as his eyes of accusing others of cowardice are in my heart. This severed finger often brings me a slight and clinging sorrow, But it's a useful treasure to me, When despondent over a trifle, I'd say, "Okay, let me get out that glass bottle."