第69部分(第2/7 頁)

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Aleppan　cook　a　graceful　greeting。　Heaping　the　meat…filled　cabbage　dolma　into

my　bowl；　I　covered　it　with　yogurt　and　topped　it　off　with　handfuls　of　hot　red

pepper　flakes　before　taking　a　seat　beside　the　young　gentleman。

Every　night　a　sorrow　overwhelms　me；　a　misery　descends　upon　me。　Oh；　my

brothers；　my　dear　brothers；　we’re　being　poisoned；　we’re　rotting；　dying；　we’re

exhausting　ourselves　as　we　live；　we’ve　sunk　up　to　our　necks　in　misery…Some

nights；　I　dream　that　he　emerges　from　the　well　and　es　after　me；　but　I　know

we’ve buried him deeply beneath plenty of earth。 He couldn’t possibly rise

from　the　grave。

The gentleman； who I thought had buried his nose in his soup and

forgotten　the　whole　world；　opened　the　door　to　a　conversation。　Was　this　a　sign

from Allah？ “Yes；” I answered； “they’ve ground the meat to the right

consistency；　my　stuffed　cabbage　is　quite　to　my　liking。”　I　asked　about　him：　He’d

recently　graduated　from　a　miserable　twenty…coin　college　and　been　taken　into

Arifi Pasha’s patronage as a clerk。 I didn’t ask him why； at this hour of the

night；　he　wasn’t　at　the　Pasha’s　estate；　at　the　mosque　or　at　home　in　the　arms　of

his beloved wife； but chose instead to be at this street kitchen teeming with

unmarried　thugs。　He　asked　me　where　I’d　e　from　and　who　I　was。　I　thought

for　a　moment。

“My name is Bihzad。 I’ve e from Herat and Tabriz。 I’ve painted the

most magnificent pictures； the most incredible masterpieces。 In Persia and

Arabia； in every Muslim book arts workshop where illustrations are made；

they’ve said this about me for