Chapter 18 Faith, hope, love

Once upon a time there was a musician named Mayne who played the trumpet beautifully.He lives in the attic of a five-story apartment building and has four cats, one of whom is named Bismarck.He sipped from his gin bottle from morning till night.He does this every day until disaster strikes and wakes him up. Oscar today does not believe in omens very much.But there were plenty of omens at the time, suggesting that a catastrophe was to come.This disaster puts on bigger and bigger boots, and wants to take bigger and bigger steps, bringing misfortune in all directions.At this moment my friend Herbert Truczynski died, having a wound on his chest by a wooden woman.The woman is not dead.She was sealed away and supposedly stored in the museum's basement for restoration purposes.However, people cannot lock the disaster into the basement.The disaster flows out of the sewer together with the sewage, and radiates out of the gas pipe together with the gas, reaching every house.No one who puts a pot of soup on a blue flame to cook it expects that it will be a disaster for him to boil his soup.

I met Sugar Leo for the second time when Herbert was buried in Longfur Cemetery, and we first met at Brentau Cemetery.Sugar Leo drooled and held out a trembling hand in a gleaming white glove for us all.His words were crazy, and he couldn't tell whether it was joy or sorrow.There were Mrs. Truczynski and her children Gust, Fritz and Maria who were there that day; Mrs. Fat Carter and Old Hai, who fed the rabbits that Mrs. Truczinski fed Zefritz on festivals. Rand; there was my imaginary father Matzerath, who, with an air of generosity (and still could be), paid half of the funeral expenses; and Jan Bronski, who simply did not know Herb Special, the reason why he came here was only to meet Matzerath in this neutral cemetery, and maybe also to meet me.Musician Mayne also came.He was half civilian, half stormtrooper uniform.As Sugar Leo's glove trembled toward him, there was another omen of future doom.

Leo suddenly turned pale with fright, and threw his white gloves to the sky.It flew away with the wind, leading Leo to gallop across the grave.He was heard crying; his fragmented voice hung from the trees of the graveyard; it was a cry, not a condolence. Everyone regards Mayne as a musician.But Sugar Leo recognized him and distinguished him from the mourners.So, he stood alone, embarrassed, and played the trumpet that he always carried with him, and played beautiful music on Herbert's grave.The reason he played so beautifully was because he drank gin--he had been abstinent for a long time--because the death of Herbert, who was in the same year as him, had touched his heart.My drum and I, on the other hand, are silenced by Herbert's death.

Once upon a time there was a musician named Mayne who played the trumpet very beautifully.He lived in the penthouse of our five-story apartment with four cats, one of whom was named Bismarck.He drank a bottle of pine gin from morning to night until he joined the cavalry in the Stormtroopers at the age of thirty-six or thirty-seven.He played the trumpet in the band of the cavalry, and compared with others, he played the correct sound, but it was no longer beautiful, because he put on leather breeches, gave up gin, and only his head Play clearly and loudly. When Stormtrooper Meyer's youthful friend Herbert Truczynski—the two of them joined a Communist youth group in the twenties and later became members of the Socialist Red Eagles—died, after his When the coffin of his friend was about to be buried, Maine took the trumpet in one hand and the bottle of gin in the other, because he wanted to play beautifully rather than soberly—in the cavalry of the stormtroopers, He's been protecting his musician's ear—so, at the cemetery, he drank.Although he originally planned to play in the graveyard in a brown uniform and without a hat, which is a matter of course, however, when he played, he did not take off the overcoat worn by ordinary people over the uniform.

Once upon a time there was a stormtrooper who didn't take off the greatcoat over his stormtrooper cavalry uniform when he played the trumpet beautifully and bright as gin at the grave of a friend of his youth.When Sugar Leo, who was seen at every funeral, expressed his condolences to the mourners, everyone heard Sugar Leo's condolences.Only the stormtrooper was not allowed to hold Sugar Leo's white gloves, because Leo recognized the stormtrooper.With a cry, he withdrew his gloves and withdrew his condolences.The stormtrooper heard no words of condolence and went home with his cold trumpet.In his room under the roof of our apartment, he met the four cats.

Once upon a time there was a stormtrooper named Mayne.During his days of gin-drinking and trumpet-playing, he raised four cats at home, one of whom was named Bismarck.Stormtrooper Meyer was returning home that day from the funeral of his youthful friend, Herbert Truczynski.He was sad, but had regained consciousness because someone refused to offer him condolences.He was alone in the house with his four cats.Four cats rubbed against his riding boots, and Meyne led them away from his boots by giving them a heap of herring heads wrapped in a newspaper.That day, the cat smell in his room was particularly strong.These four are all tomcats, and one of them is named Bismarck with black and white paws.But there was no gin in the Mayne room.Therefore, the smell of cats or male cats is getting heavier and heavier.If he didn't live in the attic room on the top floor, he might come to my store and buy something.But he feared both the stairs and the neighbors, before whom he often swore that he would never again touch a drop of gin on his musician lips, and that he had begun a new life of strict sobriety, from now on From now on, his motto will be: be well organized, no longer be an indulgent and depraved youth, and cut off the life of drunkenness and death.Once upon a time there was a man named Mayne.One day he was alone in his room under the roof with his four cats, one of whom was named Bismarck.He couldn't stand the smell of cats, especially because he had been through something that made him sad that morning, and because he didn't have any gin in the house.The sadder he felt and the more he wanted to drink, the stronger the smell of cats became.So Meyne, a former musician turned band member of the Stormtroopers, grabbed a poker from the cold continuous-burning stove and beat the cats until he thought the four, including Bismarck, The cats all purred, though the smell of cats in the room remained undiminished.

Once upon a time there was a watchmaker named Raubshad who also lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of our apartment with a window facing the courtyard.The watchmaker Raubshard was not married, he was a member of the Nazi Party Association for People's Welfare and Animal Protection.Raubshad was a kind-hearted man who helped tired people recover from fatigue, sick animals to health, and broken clocks to run again.Sitting by the window one afternoon, the watchmaker mused, thinking of a neighbor's funeral he had attended that morning.At this time, he saw Mayne, a musician who lived in the roof room of the same apartment, carrying a half-filled potato bag into the yard.The bottom of the pocket seemed damp, and something wet was dripping out.Mythes then tossed the bag into one of the two bins.The litter box was three-quarters full, and it took a lot of effort for Meine to close the lid of the litter box.

Once upon a time there were four tomcats, one of whom was named Bismarck.The cats were raised by a musician named Mayne.Since these tomcats have not been circumcised, the smell is particularly strong.One day, the musician killed the four cats with tongs because he couldn't stand the smell for a particular reason.He packed the dead cat into a potato sack, carried it down four flights of stairs, and hastily threw the sack into the dumpster beside the rug rack in the yard, where the sackcloth was sodden that it was three It started dripping from the first floor.The bin was quite full, and with some difficulty the musician squeezed the trash down with his pockets and closed the lid.As soon as he left the yard and walked into the street (because he had no intention of going back to the apartment, there was no cat there, but the cat smell was still there), the compressed garbage expanded again, and the pockets lifted the garbage. lid.

Once upon a time there was a musician who killed four cats, buried them in a dustbin, and left the flat to find his friends. Once upon a time there was a watchmaker who sat at the window meditating and watched the musician Mayne stuff a half-full sack into the dustbin and then leave the yard, and the dustbin lid lifted itself shortly after Mayne left , and it is still lifted little by little. There were once four tomcats who, because their smell was so strong on a particular day, were killed, put in a sack, and stuffed in a litter box.But these cats, one of whom was called Bismarck, were not quite dead, but were tough, as cats are.Their movement in the pocket moved the lid of the dustbin, and made the watchmaker, who had been sitting at the window brooding, ask: Guess what was in that pocket that the musician Mayne stuffed into the dustbin?

Once upon a time there was a watchmaker who could no longer sit and watch what was going on in the dustbin.So he left his apartment on the second floor of the apartment, walked to the courtyard of the apartment, opened the lid and bag of the litter box, picked up four tomcats that were beaten to pieces but were still alive, and went home to rescue them.But that night, they died at the hands of the watchmaker.He had no other choice but to file a complaint with the Animal Protection Association, of which he was a member, and also reported to the leader of the local party organization this act of cruelty and killing of animals that damaged the party's reputation.

Once upon a time there was a stormtrooper who killed four tomcats and sold him because they were not all dead, and a watchmaker denounced him.The court heard and the stormtrooper was fined.The stormtroopers also discussed the incident, and he was fired for his behavior as unfit to be a stormtrooper.Although this stormtrooper was particularly brave on the night of November 8 and 9, 1938 (later known as "the night of smashing windows"), he and several other members set fire to the The synagogue on Michaellis Street in Langfur, and was also quite hardworking the next day when he ransacked a number of pre-determined shops. Despite all his efforts, he was expelled from the cavalry of the stormtroopers .He was removed from the Stormtroopers for inhumane animal cruelty.A year later, he was able to join the militia, which was later taken over by the Waffen SS. -------- ① On this night, the Nazis destroyed and burned Jewish shops and synagogues on a large scale.Later folks called it "Night of Smashed Glass Window" or "Crystal Night". Once upon a time there was a Colonial Warehousekeeper who closed his shop one day in November because something happened in town.He took his son Oscar by the hand and took the No. 5 tram to Long Lane Gate, because the synagogues in Sopot and Langfur were on fire.The synagogue was nearly burnt down, and the fire brigade was just careful not to spread the flames to other houses.People in uniform and civilian clothes piled up books, church liturgies, and oddities before the ruins.The piled hill was set on fire, and the boss took advantage of the opportunity to warm his hands and his feelings with the public fire.But his son, seeing his father so busy and excited, slipped away quietly and ran to Armory Lane, because he was worried about his red and white tin drums. There once was a toy dealer named Sigismund Markus, who sold, among other things, tin drums painted in red and white.The Oscar mentioned above is the main customer who bought these tin drums, because he is a professional tin drummer. Without the tin drum, he can't live, and he doesn't want to live.It was for this reason that he hastened away from the burning synagogue, and headed for Arsenal Lane, where the keeper of his tin drum lived; but what was his condition when I saw him?It seemed that he could no longer sell tin drums, and that he would never be able to sell tin drums in this world. I, Oskar, thought I would leave those firefighters, but unexpectedly, they rushed to visit Marcus before me, dipped a brush in paint, and wrote a few large words in Zutlin across his window: Jewish Pig filth.Then, perhaps dissatisfied with their own handwriting, they kicked the heels of their boots into the glass window, leaving the title they gave to Marcus left to guesswork.They did not despise the shop door, so they did not enter by the door, but entered the shop through the smashed window, where they were playing with children's toys in their own way. They were playing with toys when I arrived.I also entered the shop through the window.A few had taken off their trousers, and had brown sausages—with half-digested peas still visible inside—on top of the sailboat, the monkey playing the fiddle, and my drum.They all looked like Meine the musician, all in his Stormtrooper uniform, but Meine wasn't there; like the men who were there, they were here and they weren't anywhere else.One drew a dagger.He disemboweled the dolls, looking disappointed each time he killed them, for all that came out of their plump bodies and limbs were sawdust. I only worry about my drums.They don't like my drums.My drums couldn't withstand their anger, so I knelt down and said nothing.Marcus, however, avoided their wrath.When they tried to talk to him in his office, they broke in instead of knocking, even though the door was unlocked. The toy dealer sat behind his desk.As usual, his everyday dark gray top has sleeves.The dandruff on his shoulders indicated that his hair was sick.One of the stormtroopers held the puppet Caspelle in his hand, and used the wooden grandmother Caspelle as Marcus, but he could no longer speak and feel insulted.There was a glass on the desk in front of him, and at the moment when they yelled and smashed the glass of his shop window, he felt so thirsty that he drank the contents in one gulp. -------- ①Caspelle, a funny character in a popular puppet show. Once upon a time there was a tin drummer, and his name was Oscar.When they took the life of his toy dealer and smashed the toy dealer's shop, he had a premonition that hard times were coming for a dwarf tin drummer like himself.Therefore, when he left the shop, he picked out from among the smashed things a drum that was intact on one side and not badly damaged on both sides, hung it on his body, left Arsenal Lane, and went to the coal market to find his father. Father might be looking for him too.Outside, it was nearly noon on a November day.Next to the Municipal Theater, next to the tram stop, there stood pious women and ugly girls frozen, distributing religious pamphlets, putting money into small pots, and between two poles a banner, On it was written a quotation from the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians. "There is faith—hope—and love," Oskar would say; around these three words, there are other words, like a clown juggling a bottle: credulity, hope, dope, love Pearls, Good Hope Iron and Steel Plant, Women's Milk of Love, Assembly of Believers.Do you believe it will rain tomorrow?All gullible people believe in Santa Claus.It's walnut and almond, I believe.But it's the smell of gas.I believe we will soon be celebrating the first Sunday of Advent.The first, second, and fourth Sundays of Advent are turned on like a gas switch.In this way, people can believe that they smell walnuts and almonds.Thus, all wooden walnut-crushing men can safely believe that: -------- ①See Chapter Thirteen of "The Bible·New Testament·1 Corinthians".Here it satirizes the onlooker attitude adopted by the Christian Church when the Nazis harassed them. ② "Hopeman" is a free translation of the surname "Hoffman".This refers to the stimulant mixed with ethanol and alcohol by the physician Friedrich Hoffmann (1660-1742). he came!he came!Who is coming?Is it the boy Jesus?Is it the savior?Or the gas meter reader from heaven, with a gas meter under his arm, always beeping?He then said: I am the savior of this world, without me, you cannot cook.He was a good talker, and offered a tariff for the favor, and turned on the freshly wiped gas switch to let the Holy Ghost come out so that someone could cook pigeons with it.He then distributed walnuts and almonds, and everyone smashed them immediately, and the same holy spirit and gas spewed out of them.And so it was easy for all credulous people to see the gas meter readers in front of the store as Santa Claus and Child Jesus in every size and price amidst the thick bluish gas.So they all put their faith in the exclusive blessing of the Gas Company, which symbolizes destiny with gas meters with rising and falling hands, and holds an Advent at normal prices.Many people believed that Christ would come on Christmas Eve, but after this intense festival, only those people survived, and they were not given almonds and walnuts, because there were not enough stocks, although everyone believed that there were enough stocks. However, after it was proved that the belief in Santa Claus was originally the belief in the gas meter reader, people no longer cared about the order of the words "faith-hope-love" in "1 Corinthians" , but tried love first: I love you, they say, ah, I love you.do you love you tooDo you love me?Say, do you really love me?I love me too.Out of pure love, they call each other little carrots, love little carrots, and bite each other, and one little carrot bites off the other little carrot out of love.They told each other instances of wonderful, heavenly but also earthly love between the turnips, and whispered cheerily, hungrily, and clearly before they opened their mouths to bite: Speak, turnip, do you love me?I love me too. -------- ①A gas meter reader, insinuating that the Nazis massacred Jews in the gas chambers of concentration camps.Santa Claus refers to Hitler, because Nazi Propaganda Minister Goebbels once called Hitler "the greatest Santa Claus of all time" at a Christmas party for orphans. But after they gnaw each other's radishes out of love and after the belief in the gas-meter-reader was proclaimed the state religion, in 1 Corinthians, apart from faith and pre-taken love, There is only a third slow-moving commodity left, and that is hope.While they're still nibbling on radishes, walnuts, and almonds, they're already wishing it was over so they could start over or move on.After the finale, or while the finale is still playing, they hope that the finale will be over at once.They still don't know how it will end.They just hope that it will be over soon.Tomorrow it would be over, but let's hope it wasn't over today, because what would they do if it ended suddenly?Then, it was over, and they quickly turned the ending into the beginning of hope, because in this country of ours, the end is always the beginning, and hope exists in every ending, even the final one.It is also written in the book: As long as man has hope, he will start again and end hopefully. And me?I have no idea.For example, I don't know who is hiding behind Santa's beard today; I don't know what is in Santa's pocket; I don’t know if I’m testing it; I don’t know who I’m testing it for; I don’t know if I can believe that they are cleaning the gas with love as I wished Switch, so that it crows like a rooster; I don't know, what morning, what night; I don't know, what time of day, for love knows no time, hope knows no end, faith knows no bounds, Only knowledge and ignorance are restricted by time and boundaries, and most of them end early when they encounter beards, pockets and almonds.So, again, I have to say: I don't know, ah, don't know, for example, don't know what they fill their stomachs with, whose guts have to be filled, or with what, Although any kind of filler, whether fine or rough, is marked with a price, which is clear at a glance, but I still don't know what the price contains, and I don't know from which dictionaries I can find the name of the filler, and I don't know what they use. Fill dictionaries and guts, don't know what meat to use, don't know what language: words have meaning, butchers are silent.I cut a slice, you open the dictionary, I read what tastes to me, you don't know what it tastes to you: a slice of sausage or a quotation from a dictionary—we'll never know, who has to be still, who must be silent.In this way, the intestines can be filled, and the books can make a sound, stuffed in, pressed tightly, and written densely.I don't know, I have a hunch: it's the same butcher who fills dictionaries with words and guts with minced meat.There was no such thing as Paul, this man was named Saul, a man named Saul, and in Saul's name he spoke to the Corinthians something about cheap and good sausages, which he called Faith and Hope Love, compliments on how easy they are to digest.To this day, he still transforms into the image of Saul, who changes again and again, and sells this sausage to the world. However, they took away my toy dealer, and they want to make toys disappear from the world together with the toy dealer. Once upon a time there was a musician named Mayne who played the trumpet very beautifully. Once upon a time there was a toy dealer named Marcus.He sold red and white painted tin drums. Once upon a time there was a musician named Mayne.He has four cats, one of whom is named Bismarck. Once upon a time there was a tin drummer, and his name was Oscar.He needs a toy dealer. Once upon a time there was a musician named Mayne.He killed four of his cats with pokers. Once upon a time there was a watchmaker named Raubshad who was a member of the Society for the Protection of Animals. Once upon a time there was a tin drummer, and his name was Oscar.They took his toy dealer. Once upon a time there was a toy dealer named Marcus.He committed suicide and took all his toys with him. Once upon a time there was a musician named Mayne.If he is not dead, then he is alive today, playing the trumpet again, and playing it beautifully.