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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第67章

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I knew this was not to be my fate。 He brought the inkpot down onto my 
head once again。 I was in such a state of profound torment that I could only 
vaguely discern the impact。 He; the inkpot and the room illuminated faintly by 
the candle had already begun to fade。 
Yet; I was still alive。 My desire to cling to this world; to run away and escape 
him; the flailing of my hands and arms in an attempt to protect my face and 
bloody  head;  the  way;  I  believe;  I  bit  his  wrist  at  one  time;  and  the  inkpot 
striking my face made me aware of this。 
We struggled for a while; if you can call it that。 He was very strong and very 
agitated。  He  laid  me  out  flat  on  my  back。  Pressing  his  knees  onto  my 
shoulders; he practically nailed me to the ground while he raved on in a very 
disrespectful  tone;  accosting  me;  a  dying  old  man。  Perhaps  because  I  could 
neither understand nor listen to him; perhaps because I took no pleasure in 
looking into his bloodshot eyes; he struck my head once more。 His face and his 
entire body had bee bright red from the ink splattering out of the inkpot; 
and I suppose; from the blood splattering out of me。 
Saddened that the last thing I’d ever see in this world was this man who 
would be my enemy; I closed my eyes。 Thereupon; I saw a soft; gentle light。 The 
light was as sweet and enticing as the sleep I thought would straightaway ease 
all my pains。 I saw a figure within the light and as a child might; I asked; “Who 
are you?” 
“It is I; Azrael; the Angel of Death;” he said。 “I am the one who ends man’s 
journey  in  this  world。  I  am  the  one  who  separates  children  from  their 
mothers; wives from their husbands; lovers from each other and fathers from 
their daughters。 No mortal in this world avoids meeting me。” 
191 
 
When I knew death was unavoidable; I wept。 
My  tears  made  me  profoundly  thirsty。  On  the  one  hand  there  was  the 
stupefying  agony  of  my  face  and  eyes  drenched  in  blood;  on  the  other  hand 
there was the place where frenzy and cruelty ceased; yet that place was strange 
and terrifying。 I knew it to be that illumined realm; the Land of the Dead; to 
which  Azrael  beckoned  me;  and  I  was  frightened。  Even  so;  I  knew  I  couldn’t 
long remain in this world that caused me to writhe and howl in agony。 In this 
land of frightful pain and torment; there was no place for me to take solace。 To 
stay;  I’d  have  to  resign  myself  to  this  unbearable  torment  and  this  was 
impossible in my elderly condition。 
Just before I died; I actually longed for my death; and at the same time; I 
understood the answer to the question that I’d spent my entire life pondering; 
the  answer  I  couldn’t  find  in  books:  How  was  it  that  everybody;  without 
exception;  succeeded  in  dying?  It  was  precisely  through  this  simple  desire  to 
pass on。 I also understood that death would make me a wiser man。 
Noheless; I was overe with the indecision of a man about to take a 
long journey and unable to refrain from taking one last glance at his room; at 
his belongings and his home。 In a panic I wished to see my daughter one last 
time。 I wanted this so badly I was prepared to grit my teeth for a while longer 
and endure the pain and my increasing thirst; to wait for Shekure’s return。 
And thus; the deathly and gentle light before me faded somewhat; and my 
mind  opened  itself  up  to  the  sounds  and  noises  of  the  world  in  which  I  lay 
dying。  I  could  hear  my  murderer  roaming  around  the  room;  opening  the 
cabi; rifling through my papers and searching intently for the last picture。 
When he came up empty…handed; I heard him pry open my paint set and kick 
the chests; boxes; inkpots and folding worktable。 I sensed that I was groaning 
now and then and making odd twitching gestures with my old arms and tired 
legs。 And I waited。 
My pain was not abating in the least。 I grew increasingly silent and could no 
longer stand to grit my teeth; but again; I held on; waiting。 
Then  it  occurred  to  me;  if  Shekure  came  home;  she  might  encounter  my 
ruthless  murderer。  I  didn’t  want  to  even  think  about  this。  At  that  instant;  I 
sensed that my murderer had exited the room。 He’d probably found the last 
painting。 
I’d bee excessively thirsty but still I waited。 e now; dear daughter; 
my pretty Shekure; show yourself。 
She did not e。 
192 
 
I  no  longer  had  strength  to  withstand  the  suffering。  I  knew  I  would  die 
without seeing her。 This seemed so bitter I wanted to die of misery。 Afterward; 
a face I’d never seen before appeared to my left; and smiling all the while; he 
kindly offered me a glass of water。 
Forgetting all else; I greedily reached for the water。 
He pulled the glass back: “Denounce the Prophet Muhammad as a liar;” he 
said。 “Deny all that he has said。” 
It was Satan。 I didn’t answer; I wasn’t even afraid of him。 Since I never once 
believed that painting amounted to being duped by him; I waited confidently。 
I dreamed of the endless journey that awaited me and of my future。 
Meanwhile;  as  I  was  approached  by  the  illuminated  angel  whom  I’d  just 
seen; Satan vanished。 Part of me knew that this glowing angel who had caused 
Satan to flee was Azrael。 But another rebellious part of my mind remembered 
that in the Book of the Apocalypse it was written that Azrael was an angel with 
one thousand wings spanning East and West and that he held the whole world 
in his hands。 
As I grew more confused; the angel bathed in light approached as if ing 
to  my  aid;  and  yes;  just  as  Gazzali  had  stated  in  Pearls  of  Magnificence;  he 
sweetly said: 
“Open your mouth so that your soul might leave。” 
“Nothing but the besmele prayer ever leaves my mouth;” I answered him。 
This was just one last excuse however。 I knew I could no longer resist; that 
my time had now e。 For a moment I was embarrassed at having to leave 
my  bloodied  and  ugly  body  in  this  miserable  condition  for  my  daughter; 
whom  I’d  never  see  again。  But  I  wanted  to  leave  this  world;  shedding  it  like 
some tight…fitting garment that pinched。 
I opened my mouth and abruptly all was color just as in the pictures of Our 
Prophet’s  Miraj  journey;  during  which  he  visited  Heaven。  Everything  was 
flooded in exquisite brightness as if generously painted with gold wash。 Painful 
tears  flowed  from  my  eyes。  A  strained  exhalation  passed  from  my  lungs 
through my mouth。 All was subsumed in wondrous silence。 
I could see now that my soul had left my body and that I was cupped in 
Azrael’s hand。 My soul; the size of a bee; was bathed in light; and it shuddered 
as it left my body and continued to tremble like mercury in Azrael’s palm。 My 
thoughts were not of this; however; but of the unfamiliar new world I’d just 
been born into。 
193 
 
After so much suffering; a calm overcame me。 Death did not cause me the 
pain  I’d  feared;  on  the  contrary;  I  relaxed;  quickly  realizing  that  my  present 
situation  was  a  permanent  one;  whereas  the  co
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