translated by Steve Bradbury
A fully roasted goose flew off, straight from the oven. Moreover, it decamped with our one and only bottle of premium saké. On a fine moonlit night, our bodies bent like withered mums, we stood naked on the sandy shores of the sea, singing: "We don't use no metal tableware. You won't catch us with bamboo chopsticks. Gluttons for 'beauty,' we drink our wine straight from the bottle. O roasted goose, so buttery and fragrant. O roasted goose, so buttery … " and so on till the morning mist had veiled our sacred flesh and the dewdrops pearled from the tips of our beet-red noses.
|© Copyright 2006 Shang Qin & Trout.
|This issue of Trout is sponsored in part by UNESCO.