Author: Ali Al-Ramezi

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug. He lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his brown, arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sections. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slid off completely, could hardly stay in place. His numerous
legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes.
‘What’s happened to me,’ he thought. It was no dream.
His room, a proper room for a human being, only somewhat too small, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. Above the table, on which an unpacked collection of
sample cloth goods was spread out (Samsa was a traveling
salesman) hung the picture which he had cut out of an illustrated magazine a little while ago and set in a pretty gilt frame. It was a picture of a woman with a fur hat and a fur
boa. She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the
viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire forearm disappeared.
Gregor’s glance then turned to the window. The dreary
weather (the rain drops were falling audibly down on the
metal window ledge) made him quite melancholy. ‘Why
don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all
 The Metamorphosis this foolishness,’ he thought. But this was entirely impractical, for he was used to sleeping on his right side, and in his
present state he couldn’t get himself into this position. No
matter how hard he threw himself onto his right side, he
always rolled again onto his back. He must have tried it a
hundred times, closing his eyes, so that he would not have
to see the wriggling legs, and gave up only when he began
to feel a light, dull pain in his side which he had never felt
before. ‘O God,’ he thought, ‘what a demanding job I’ve chosen!
Day in, day out on the road. The stresses of trade are much
greater than the work going on at head office, and, in addition to that, I have to deal with the problems of traveling, the worries about train connections, irregular bad food,
temporary and constantly changing human relationships
which never come from the heart. To hell with it all!’ He felt
a slight itching on the top of his abdomen. He slowly pushed
himself on his back closer to the bed post so that he could
lift his head more easily, found the itchy part, which was
entirely covered with small white spots (he did not know
what to make of them), and wanted to feel the place with a
leg. But he retracted it immediately, for the contact felt like
a cold shower all over him.
He slid back again into his earlier position. ‘This getting
up early,’ he thought, ‘makes a man quite idiotic. A man
must have his sleep. Other traveling salesmen live like harem women. For instance, when I come back to the inn
during the course of the morning to write up the necessary
orders, these gentlemen are just sitting down to breakfast.
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If I were to try that with my boss, I’d be thrown out on the
spot. Still, who knows whether that mightn’t be really good
for me. If I didn’t hold back for my parents’ sake, I would’ve
quit ages ago. I would’ve gone to the boss and told him just
what I think from the bottom of my heart. He would’ve fallen right off his desk! How weird it is to sit up at the desk and
talk down to the employee from way up there. The boss has
trouble hearing, so the employee has to step up quite close
to him. Anyway, I haven’t completely given up that hope
yet. Once I’ve got together the money to pay off the parents’
debt to him—that should take another five or six years—I’ll
do it for sure. Then I’ll make the big break. In any case, right
now I have to get up. My train leaves at five o’clock.’
And he looked over at the alarm clock ticking away by
the chest of drawers. ‘Good God,’ he thought. It was half
past six, and the hands were going quietly on. It was past
the half hour, already nearly quarter to. Could the alarm
have failed to ring? One saw from the bed that it was properly set for four o’clock. Certainly it had rung. Yes, but was it
possible to sleep through this noise that made the furniture
shake? Now, it’s true he’d not slept quietly, but evidently he’d slept all the more deeply. Still, what should he do
now? The next train left at seven o’clock. To catch that one,
he would have to go in a mad rush. The sample collection
wasn’t packed up yet, and he really didn’t feel particularly fresh and active. And even if he caught the train, there
was no avoiding a blow up with the boss, because the firm’s
errand boy would’ve waited for the five o’clock train and reported the news of his absence long ago. He was the boss’s

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