Translated by David Wyllie
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled
dreams, he found
himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
He lay on
his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little
see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by
arches into stiff
sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and
to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin
with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly
"What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream.
a proper human room although a little too small, lay
between its four familiar walls. A collection of
lay spread out on the table - Samsa was a travelling
salesman - and
above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut
out of an
illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat
raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her
towards the viewer.