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As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning

from uneasy dreams,

he found himself metamorphosed in his bed

into an insect-like vermin of grotesque proportions.

He was lying on his armor-like back,

and if he looked down,

he could see the dome of his brown belly

divided into curved segments,

with the bed clothes resting precariously on top.

His numerous little legs wriggled helplessly

before his eyes.

This was no dream.

His room was exactly as before.

On the desk was his collection of cloth samples.

Samsa was a commercial traveller.

And, above it, hung the picture

he had recently cut out of an illustrated periodical

and made an attractive gilded frame for.

Gregor's gaze then turned to the window,

and the dismal weather outside

made him feel quite despondent.

Why not just go back to sleep for a while

and forget all this nonsense?

But that was impossible,

because he was used to sleeping on his right side,

and he was unable to get into that position

in his present form.

People need their sleep.

This endless getting up so early

is enough to drive you insane.

Oh God, what an exhausting profession

he'd landed himself in.

Fretting about trains, rushed meals,

no time for real friendships.

Another few years, that's all,

and he'd have paid his father's debts off.

Then he'd be gone.

Oh Lord, it's 20 to seven.

The next train left at seven.

To catch that one, he would have to hurry like mad,

and even if he did catch that train,

he wouldn't escape a thunderous dressing down

from his employer,

because the office boy would've waited

for the five o'clock train,

and long since reported Gregor's absence.

What if Gregor reported in sick?

That would be suspect, though,

since Gregor had never been off ill

in his entire five years' service.

The company doctor would be straight round

to pronounce him fit, and he was probably right.

Gregor felt actually quite well,

and was even ravenously hungry.

- Gregor.

Gregor?

Gregor?

It's almost quarter to seven.

Didn't you want to be off long ago?

Yes.

Good heavens, what's happened to my voice?

Thank you, mother.

I'm getting up now.

Gregor tried to disguise his voice

through the most controlled enunciation,

and by leaving gaps between the words.

Gregor?

Oh, god.

Gregor?

What's the matter?

Gregor?

Gregor?

The conversation

had made the other family members aware

that Gregor was still at home, contrary to expectations.

Gregor?

Are you unwell?

Do you need anything?

I am

nearly ready.

- Gregor?

Open the door.

Gregor, please.

- Gregor, it's very late.

- Gregor.

Open the door.

The wooden doors

must have muffled the sound enough to convince the others

that there was nothing seriously wrong,

as Gregor's mother shuffled off

and his father made his way to the table,

which was adorned with various dishes,

because for him,

breakfast was the most important meal of the day,

which he stretched out for hours,

reading through a variety of newspapers.

At this point, Gregor just wanted to be left in peace,

get up, get dressed, and above all, have some breakfast.

He had absolutely no doubt the change in his voice

was nothing more than the sign of an oncoming cold,

an occupational hazard of the commercial traveller.

Throwing off the bed clothes was quite simple.

He just needed to puff up his abdomen

and they fell off by themselves.

But after that, it became difficult.

He would've needed arms and hands to get himself upright.

Instead of that, however,

he had only these numerous little legs,

which he simply could not control.

He could have done with some help,

but, of course, the doors were all locked.

If he could just get his head out,

maybe his body would follow,

but if he ended up falling,

it would be a miracle if he didn't injure his head,

and he could not afford

to be rendered unconscious at this juncture.

- Good morning, sir.

- Good morning.

Gregor only had to hear the initial greeting

of the visitor to know immediately who it was,

only the supervisor himself.

Did he have to come?

Thereby, demonstrating to the entire innocent family

that the investigation

of the suspicious affair could be entrusted

only to the judgement of someone as senior as himself.

- Mr. Samsa.

Mrs. Samsa.

I have come to inquire after Mr. Samsa,

Mr. Samsa Junior, that is, of course.

I am concerned that he is unable to carry out his duties.

- Gregor.

Gregor, your supervisor is here.

Ow!

- I heard something fall in there.

- Gregor?

Your supervisor is asking

why you didn't leave by the early train.

We don't know what to tell him.

He wants to speak to you in person.

Please, open the door.

I'm sure he will be kind enough

to excuse the untidiness of your room.

- He does that.

He locks all the doors at night,

from staying in boarding houses.

You know what sort of types you can get there.

- Good morning, Samsa.

- He's not well.

He's not well, believe me.

Why else would my Gregor miss his train?

My boy has nothing in his head but his job.

I sometimes worry about him.

He stays in every evening, quietly reading the newspaper

or poring over railway timetables.

His only bit of relaxation is his woodwork.

He made a lovely picture frame recently, really lovely,

beautifully cut out

and painted with little sort of gold bits.

You'll be amazed by how beautiful it is.

Yes, it's hanging in his room.

You'll see it when he opens the door.

He, he, he, he must be unwell.

I mean, he must be, I know that he said that he wasn't,

but I'm sure that he is not well.

- I can think of no other explanation, Samsa.

I only hope it isn't serious.

At the same time,

I must say that we business people, like it or not,

simply have to overcome any slight indisposition

for the sake of, dare I say it, of our business.

- Yes, of course.

Of course, you must.

Can the supervisor come in now?

NO!

An embarrassed silence ensued in the room.

And what was Greta crying for?

Because Gregor was in danger

of losing his job?

Of course, he wasn't.

A suitable excuse would be found later

for his apparent impoliteness.

- Samsa, what is the meaning of this, hmm?

You barricade yourself in your room.

You refuse to answer any of our questions

in an appropriate manner.

You cause great concern to your good parents here,

as well as, and I merely mention this in passing,

as well as neglecting your company duties

in a most unacceptable way.

This great city of ours

produces the finest textiles in the world,

and you represent the best textile manufacturer in the city.

The cloth samples you carry in our name

should be badges of pride.

Samsa, I am speaking to you now on behalf of your parents

and of your employer himself

when I demand an explanation for this tomfoolery.

I am amazed, Samsa,

quite amazed.

Think of your duty for once.

You're letting everybody down.

Just a momentary attack of giddiness,

that's all, sir.

I'll be there in a trice.

- What is going on in there?

Just a second, everybody.

Minor setback, not to worry.

I'll be with you in no time at all.

Evidently, they couldn't understand

what he was saying anymore.

His words, it sounded clear enough to him,

perhaps as a result of his ear

becoming attuned to his voice.

How such a thing can come over one, I don't know.

But I'm better now, I assure you.

- Did you hear that?

Is he making fools of us?

- Oh, he's terribly ill and we are tormenting him.

Greta.

Greta, get a doctor quick!

Your brother is very ill.

Did you hear him speak?

- That was an animal's voice.

Anna?

- Yes, sir.

- Get a locksmith here at once.

Greta, go with her.

- You're making a dreadful exhibition of yourself, Samsa.

No less a person than our esteemed employer himself

hinted to me earlier this morning that there might be

a possible explanation for your absence, hmm?

The collection of cash payments entrusted to you recently.

Oh, there's more than a hint of embezzlement.

Of course, I swore to him on my word of honour

that this could not possibly be the case.

But now that I have witnessed

this inconceivable stubbornness on your part,

I'm beginning to lose the desire

to defend you any further, Samsa, any further at all!

Indeed, your position

is not the most secure, not at all, I can tell you.

I had wanted to discuss this in private with you, Samsa,

but since you don't mind wasting my time here,

I see no reason why your parents shouldn't hear

this as well, much as I regret causing them

further anxiety, of course.

Indeed, your results have been far from satisfactory, Samsa.

Far from satisfactory.

Oh, I realise that this is not exactly

perhaps the time of year to do particularly good business,

but the time of year to do no business at all

does not exist, Samsa, must not exist.

What was that?

Gregor was trying

to turn the key in the lock and because he had no teeth,

he injured his soft, fleshy mouth in the process.

- Listen.

He's turning the key.

Oh, mother!

Just a moment, sir.

Don't go, it's me, Gregor.

Don't alarm yourself.

Mother?

Sir, wait, please, wait!

Don't go, I beg of you.

I can explain everything.

You see, sir, I am not stubborn and I'm willing to work.

I'm going to get dressed, pack up my samples,

and be on that train in no time.

It's a hard life,

but I wouldn't be without it.

Don't run me down at the office, sir!

I have to provide

for my parents and my sister.

People get the wrong idea about us

commercial travellers, sir.

Think we swan about, raking in the money.

But it's not like that at all, sir, I assure you.

I work very hard.

Put in a good word for me, sir.

Sir, sir!

But, father, I can't go backwards very well, you see.

I've got to turn around.

Gregor's father was now intent

solely on driving him back into his room.

No entreaty, no pleading by Gregor was understood.

It was no use as long as his words

sounded like an incomprehensible noise,

easily mistaken for aggression rather than pleas for mercy.

- No, father, no!

No!

Not until late that evening

did Gregor wake from his deep, exhausted sleep.

The electric street lamp cast faint patches

of light onto the higher parts of his room,

but down on the floor, it was dark.

For the first time, he recognised the value

of his antennae as they led him through the darkness

towards some form of nourishment,

which he was overjoyed about as he was hungrier than ever.

He was filled with remorse as he realised his sister

had put it there deliberately,

knowing that milk was his favourite food.

In the drawing room, as Gregor could see through the gap

in the door, the evening lights were on.

He was filled with pride at the thought

that he had provided his family with such a lovely apartment

and comfortable lifestyle.

Gregor had remained close only to his sister,

and it was his secret plan to send her to the music academy

the following year since, in contrast to him,

she loved music and could play the violin so evocatively.

During his visits home,

the music academy would often be mentioned

when chatting to his sister,

but only ever as a beautiful dream with no chance

of even thinking of it becoming a reality.

Gregor's parents were averse to hearing any mention

of these innocent allusions,

but Gregor had very definite thoughts about it

and fully intended to formally announce his plans

on Christmas Eve.

- Now what does he think he's up to?

How could he do this to us?

- Would you like another beer, father?

- No.

- I could get the caretaker to fetch it.

- No!

Thank you.

But what if all this peacefulness,

all this comfort, all this security

should now end in torment?

Gregor's father was a healthy man,

but one who was getting on,

hadn't worked for five years

and certainly couldn't expect to do very much now.

During those five years,

which constituted the first leisure time

of his hardworking but unsuccessful life,

he had put on a lot of weight and had, therefore,

become rather cumbersome.

And was Gregor's elderly mother

really now expected to earn money,

suffering from asthma as she did,

finding it exhausting to even walk around the apartment

and spending every second day on the sofa by the open window

struggling for breath?

And his sister, no more than a child at 17,

whose life up to now had been allowed to consist

of putting on pretty clothes, sleeping in,

helping out in the house,

enjoying a few simple pleasures in life

and, above all, playing the violin,

should she be expected to go out and earn a living

all of a sudden?

Such thoughts filled Gregor with shame and remorse

and he forced himself under the couch

where he immediately felt more at ease

and only regretted that his body was too wide

to fit completely underneath.

Not until late into the night

did the light in the drawing room go out.

He could clearly hear his sister's footsteps

retreating to bed.

He knew that now no one would come

to visit him before morning, so he had plenty of time

to think over how he was to reorganise his life.

Good night, Greta.

(Gregor breathes heavily

Seeing that Gregor

hadn't touched the bread and milk,

Greta had brought him a whole selection

of morsels to see what he liked.

And, very considerately, she withdrew from the room

as quickly as she could since she knew

that Gregor would not eat in front of her,

and then even turned the key to tell Gregor

that he could proceed at his leisure.

The fresh pieces of food didn't appeal to him at all.

He couldn't even bear the smell of them.

- Would you like a little more coffee, father?

Hm.

- Please, sir.

Please, Mr. Samsa, please, let me go, I beg of you.

I peeped in today, sir, forgive me, in there, sir, I did.

Mr. Samsa, for the love of God, and I saw it, I saw it.

I'm very sorry, Mrs Samsa,

but I can't stay here any longer.

I won't breathe the tiniest word about it, ma'am, I swear.

I swear in God's name I won't, sir.

But with that in there, I can't.

- All right, mother, all right.

Shh.

Very well, Anna.

As you wish.

- Oh.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you, Mr Samsa, thank you.

Thank you, ma'am, thank you, miss.

Thank you, thank you.

As early on as the first day,

the father presented to the mother and sister

the full picture of their finances and their prospects.

He took out some sort of receipt or notebook

from the small safe that he had salvaged

from the collapse of his business.

These statements of the father's would be the first

welcome news that Gregor had heard since his incarceration.

He had always thought that his father had been left

with not a single penny from the failed business.

At least his father had never said anything

to the contrary and Gregor had, of course,

never asked him about it.

At that time, Gregor's overriding concern had been to work

as hard as he was able to allow his family

to forget as soon as possible the business disaster

that had reduced them all to a state of complete despair.

- It will be difficult without Anna,

but it's no bad thing in some ways.

And we cannot tell how long it will be before Gregor

is back to his old self and resumes his duties

at the company.

We must think carefully about our finances

and, indeed, our future.

Fortunately, I am a prudent man.

When under unfortunate and unforeseeable circumstances

my business suffered a difficult end five years ago,

I managed to rescue a certain sum of money.

And from the money Gregor brings in,

I've also been able to put by a little each month,

over and above the necessary expenditure.

Now, this modest sum I've been adding to my own money.

And the interest quite naturally has gradually accumulated.

- Father, I'm sorry, I don't quite understand.

- As I was saying, I have been making our capital grow

to the best of my ability.

I understand these things.

We're not penniless, but the interest is not enough

to keep us going.

And once we start eating into the capital,

the situation will very quickly become desperate.

We must pray for Gregor's speedy recovery.

- Gregor, my Gregor.

Mother, please.

- My little boy.

- Mother.

Mother, don't upset yourself.

He'll soon be well again.

- Let's hope so.

Under what sort of pretext

the doctor and the locksmith had been

ushered out of the room on that first morning,

Gregor had no means of finding out

since it didn't occur to anyone, not even to his sister,

that just because he couldn't be understood,

he could nevertheless understand everyone else.

And so, whenever his sister came in to feed him,

he had to content himself with listening

to her occasional sighs and invocations

to the higher powers.

- The Saints preserve us.

Knowing that Gregor

couldn't make himself understood,

Greta had made the effort to grasp

what it was that he wanted.

She pushed his old chair to the window,

so that he could climb up onto it

and look out from time to time.

In the first 14 days,

Gregor's parents couldn't bring themselves

to come in to see him and he often overheard

how they fully appreciated his sister's present efforts,

whereas they had often previously been irritated by her,

since she had seemed to them a somewhat useless girl.

- Couldn't I look in on him, just quickly?

- Certainly not.

No, mother.

- Well, is there any improvement?

- He hasn't touched a thing again.

- He hasn't eaten anything for a fortnight.

What are you giving him?

- It's not my fault!

- Gregor, Gregor, my son.

Let me see him, let me see him.

Gregor, my son, my poor boy, Gregor.

Let me see him, let me see him.

Please, please, let me see him.

- Come, mother, come, come now.

He'll be well again soon if our prayers are answered.

Hm, come along, it'll be all right.

It's all right, it's all right.

- I just want to see my son.

- You can't think of him like that at the moment, mother.

Let me look after him until he gets better.

I know what I'm doing.

I've got used to his hideousness.

But it would be too much for you with your sensitive nature.

- Listen to Greta, mother, she knows best.

Hmm.

There, there.

On one occasion,

it must have been about a month

after Gregor's metamorphosis,

and there was no particular reason any longer

for his sister to be astonished by his appearance,

she came in a little earlier than usual,

showing great caution, as if he might be lying

in wait somewhere to leap out and bite her,

and when she caught sight of him,

she started back in fright and shut the door sharply.

He realised from this that she found

the sight of him repugnant,

that she would inevitably continue

to find him repugnant forever more.

In order to spare her from having to look at him,

he carried the bed-sheet to the couch

and arranged it in such a way that his sister

couldn't see him even if she bent down,

a task that took him four hours.

And this is how he intended it to be

whenever she came in to feed him.

At night, he would often gaze out of the window,

and with every passing day,

his vision grew dimmer and dimmer

until he could have believed he was staring out

at a wasteland where the sky and the landscape merged

indistinguishably together.

The monotony of his existence was stultifying.

He didn't have a lot of space to crawl about in,

was finding it difficult to lie still at night,

and was failing to derive the slightest pleasure

from eating any more, so he adopted the habit

of climbing all over the walls and ceiling

as a distraction.

It was quite different from being down on the floor.

It was easier to breathe,

a gentle fluttering sensation went through his body.

He particularly liked hanging upside down from the ceiling,

and in the state of almost joyful relaxation

that he found himself in up there,

it could happen that he'd lose his grip

and crash down onto the floor.

But, by now, of course, he had gained far more control

over his body and a fall like that didn't injure him

in the slightest.

(footsteps approach.

- Sweet Mary!

His sister noticed this new pastime

that Gregor had found for himself.

He left behind traces of the sticky substance

from his clambering around.

So she seized on the idea of making as much room

as possible for him to crawl about in.

- That's good.

And he was reassured

that she was pleased with his attempts

to hide himself away.

- Mother.

Yes?

- Gregor needs more space to move around in.

I need you to help me move some of his furniture out.

The sister went ahead to check

that everything in the room

was in order, and only then would she allow the mother in.

- Now, I've made sure you won't see him, mother.

- Oh. - This is not the moment.

You're not strong enough yet.

All in good time, I promise.

Come along.

Right.

Let's start with the bedside cabinet.

Then we can remove the desk.

Gregor was alarmed by Greta's words.

For a start, the bedside cabinet

had all his woodworking tools in it.

- Be careful Greta!

You'll hurt your back if you try to lift it like that.

- Don't fuss, mother, we have to move it somehow or other.

You get that end.

- We'll never manage it before father gets home.

What did she think?

Did he really wish to allow his cosy room,

so welcomingly furnished with heirloom pieces,

to be changed into a cavernous space

in which he would undoubtedly be free to crawl

in all directions, but at the same time,

quickly and completely forget his human past?

Nothing should be removed, everything had to stay.

- Right.

The desk.

And if the furniture did prevent him

from this ridiculous clambering around,

then it wasn't a drawback but a great advantage.

- Get that end.

- I'm not sure this is right.

Mother, what is the matter now?

- Well, when I look at the empty space by Gregor's bed,

it makes me feel sad.

And I just wonder how he would feel.

- Feel?

What do you mean, feel?

Let's get a move on.

Hasn't he always been used

to seeing this furniture since he was a young boy?

Won't he feel a bit lost without it?

- Mother, let me be the judge of that.

Who's been looking after him all this time?

He needs the space to crawl about in.

He had come perilously close

to forgetting his human past

and only been shaken out of it by the sound

of his mother's voice, which he hadn't heard for so long.

- Don't you think that by removing his furniture,

we are showing him that we have given up

all hope of him ever getting better?

No, I think it's best if we leave the room

exactly as it always was.

And so that when Gregor returns to us,

it will be all the same and he won't be reminded

of what happened to him in between times.

- Mother, you're being silly now.

I know him.

I'm the one that sees to him, aren't I?

We shall clear the whole room bit by bit.

Now come along, take that end again.

Was the motivation

behind his sister's determination

to take away everything that was dear

to him entirely selfless?

She wanted to rob him of everything.

Well, there was one thing they were not going to have.

- I'm not sure if we'll be able to manage the wardrobe.

- It looks awfully heavy.

Ah!

- You, you beast!

These were the first words

his sister had addressed to him

directly since his metamorphosis.

- Smelling salts!

Smelling salts!

Gregor wanted to help his sister,

as he had always done in the past.

He could save the picture later.

Where are they?

Greta, I know where they are.

How could you!

Home!

What is going on?

- Oh, thank heaven's you're home.

Gregor's broken out, mother's fainted in there.

- Oh, he has, has he?

I knew it.

I kept saying it.

But you, women, wouldn't listen.

- It's all right, father's home.

He'll see to Gregor.

Gregor had never really pictured his father

the way he stood there now.

Was this still his father, the same man who used to be

lying wearily ensconced in his bed

when Gregor left for work,

the same man who used to greet him

in his dressing gown from his armchair,

unable even to stand up but only raise a hand

in a gesture of welcome when Gregor returned

from work in the evenings?

And who, during the rare family walks

on a few Sundays in the year would be wrapped

in his old overcoat,

shuffling forward between Gregor and his mother,

carefully testing the way with his stick

and moving a little slower than their already

leisurely pace?

Oh God!

Please father, no.

- No, no, no!

Stop it now!

Save him, save him, save him!

No, no, no.

He's my son, he's my son!

With his last look back

before he lost consciousness completely,

Gregor saw how his mother threw her arms around his father

and, her hands grasping at him,

she begged him to spare Gregor's life.

Gregor's severe wound, which had afflicted him

for more than a month seemed to have prompted

even his father to recall that,

despite his present regrettable and repulsive condition,

Gregor was still a member of the family,

who shouldn't be treated like an enemy

but, on the contrary, that it was the duty of the family

to suppress their disgust and to tolerate him.

- Father, mother, I've been thinking.

I would say that we've been rather unkind to Gregor.

A few weeks ago, we were very hostile to him

and he must have got the impression

that we have given up hope with him.

If we're ever to get him back,

we must think about him in a positive way.

Since that last time when he broke out,

he's been very well behaved.

He hasn't done anything silly.

As a sort of reward, I suggest we leave the door to his room

slightly ajar for one or two hours every evening.

You won't be frightened, will you, mother?

- No, that's a lovely thought, Greta, dear.

Gregor had permanently lost some mobility

as a result of his wound, and it took a long time

for him to cross his room like an old invalid.

Climbing about on the ceiling was now out of the question.

But this privilege of being allowed to watch the family

for two hours every evening compensated him totally,

in his opinion, for his deteriorating condition.

He could listen to their conversation

with general consent, unlike before.

- Mother?

Bonjour.

Je m'appelle Greta

J'ai dix-sept ans

Comment allez-vous?

- Hmm.

Is that French, dear?

- Yes, mother, I'm learning another language.

I'm not going to stay a shop assistant

all my life, you know.

Very good, dear.

- You're working very hard, my dear.

- Father, come along, father, it's time for bed.

- Oh this is the life, aie?

Peace and quiet in my old age.

You're both a great comfort to me.

What, still all this to clear away

and all the washing up to do?

No, no, no, we can't have this.

Life is hard enough as it is.

Me working at the bank

and you at the store and you taking in

all this sewing and mending.

We're overdoing it, my pets.

We should get someone in.

I can afford it now.

I shall see to it, I shall see to it.

- If you wouldn't keep making a mess of your uniform,

that would be a help.

As much as mother keeps cleaning and pressing it,

you keep dropping half your dinner down it.

- Aha, stuff and nonsense.

Are you coming to bed soon, my dear?

- Yes, father.

- Good night, Greta.

- Good night, father.

And the wound in his back

started to trouble Gregor all over again,

particularly on those occasions when the mother

and the sister had put the father to bed,

leaving their respective tasks untouched

and then huddled together, whispering.

- I mean, he doesn't know

that I've had to sell all my jewellery.

- Don't tell him, mother, it would kill him.

He's so proud again.

We'll manage somehow.

Let him get someone in.

- We should move to a smaller apartment.

- How could we?

- I think you'd better shut the door now, Greta.

Gregor was convinced

that they could have moved apartments

if they really wanted to.

They could easily have transported him

in a suitable crate if it had a few air-holes in it.

The nights and days Gregor spent

almost entirely without sleep.

Sometimes, he imagined that the next time

the door was opened he would take the family affairs

in hand again, just as he used to in the old days.

After all this time, there appeared in his thoughts

a cashier from a hat shop,

whom he had tried to court ardently but too slowly,

and a chamber maid from a provincial hotel,

a fond and fleeting memory.

At other times, he was in no mood

to worry about his family,

but instead, was filled with anger

at the neglectful treatment he was receiving,

and despite the fact that he had no idea

what he might have fancied eating,

he nevertheless made plans to raid the larder

to take what was rightfully his,

even if he wasn't in the slightest bit hungry.

But who in this overworked and exhausted family

could spend more time looking after Gregor

than was absolutely necessary?

Without really thinking about how

to do something special for him,

his sister would bring any old scraps into his room

before she went off to work in the mornings

and after lunch, and then in the evenings,

clear it up again in perfunctory fashion,

completely indifferent to whether Gregor

had tried a little bit of the food

or left it completely untouched.

There.

He always hoped

that when his sister came in, the sight of his situation

would act as some sort of reproach to her.

But he could have waited there for weeks

without achieving any improvement in her attitude.

She could see the state of things just as well as he could,

but she had simply decided to do nothing about it.

Yet on the other hand,

she made absolutely sure with a touchiness

that made the whole family suffer

that clearing up Gregor's room

was her exclusive prerogative.

- What do you think you're doing?

- I'm just...

I'm, I'm...

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

- I have told you again and again.

- Home!

- Father!

Father, look what she's doing!

Tell her!

- What, Greta, what?

What is it?

- Why don't you trust me, any of you?

You think I don't look after him.

You think I can't clean him out.

I can't do everything now I've got my own job.

- This is intolerable.

You should not interfere.

That is her domain.

And you should not be taking so much

on your shoulders anyway.

You've got enough to do working full time.

I will not have it!

I will not have it!

Morning!

But even if the sister,

exhausted from her job, was already fed up

with looking after Gregor the way she used to,

the mother would not have needed to intervene

and there would have been no reason to neglect him

because the cleaner was there now.

- Oh.

This old widow, whose powerful build

had enabled her to survive the worst of what life

had thrown at her, wasn't at all repulsed by Gregor.

- Well, I never.

Just look at that funny old cockroach!

Shh, to you too.

Oh, you don't half pong!

Come on then, you smelly old woodlouse.

Just you dare!

That's better.

I think we understand each other just fine.

Oh!

Ah.

Oh.

It's springtime again.

A quick once-over for you, Mr Cockroach,

'cause you are a bit of a stinker.

Never mind, can't help it, I suppose.

If only this cleaner had been told

to tidy his room up instead of being allowed

to disturb him pointlessly just because she felt like it.

- But you ought to try and take more care of yourself.

You are a bit of a mess, if you don't mind my saying so.

Well, that's enough of that.

Bye-bye.

Gregor now hardly ate anything anymore

but occupied his long hours

with ambling through the detritus in his room.

And, after such perambulations,

would feel tired to death and miserable.

- Oh.

That's me done for the day.

I'll see you tomorrow, you old woodlouse.

Tsk!

His family had acquired the habit

of pushing things into his room

that they hadn't got space for anywhere else.

And there were now a lot of these things

because they had let one of the rooms in the apartment

to three lodgers.

- Good afternoon, madam.

These earnest gentlemen

were obsessional about tidiness,

not just in their room, but in the whole household.

Moreover, they had brought with them

most of their own household items.

For this reason, many things had become superfluous,

which weren't actually saleable,

but which the family didn't want to throw away either,

and all of these found their way into Gregor's room.

The lodgers took their supper in the drawing room.

They sat down where the family used to sit in the old days,

unfolded their napkins,

and the one who was sitting in the middle

and appeared to be regarded as in charge by the other two,

picked up his knife and fork.

- Mm.

Mm-hm. - The family had never before

let out rooms and, therefore, greatly overdid

their courteousness to the lodgers.

The family themselves ate in the kitchen.

But the father came in to verify the lodgers' satisfaction.

- Mm-hm.

Mm-hm.

The lodgers rose in unison

and muttered something into their beards.

- Mm. - Mm-hm.

When they were alone again,

they ate with without speaking.

- Mm. - Mm.

Mm.

Mm-mm.

Mm.

It seemed strange to Gregor

that of all the varied sounds made when eating,

it was the chomping of their teeth

that came through most clearly,

as if demonstrating to him that, in order to eat,

teeth were needed, and that it was impossible

to get anywhere with even the finest jaws

if they had no teeth.

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

Ahem!

Ahem!

- Oh.

- If my daughter's playing is disturbing the good gentlemen,

it shall be stopped immediately.

- On the contrary, on the contrary.

Perhaps, the young lady would like to come

into the greater comfort of the drawing room

and play for us here?

- Oh, most certainly, most certainly.

Gentlemen, thank you, thank you.

Too kind, I'm sure.

The gentlemen stepped back

into the drawing room and waited.

Soon, the father arrived with the music stand,

the mother with the sheet music,

and the sister with the violin.

The sister then got everything ready to play.

The father leaned against the door

in his buttoned-up livery jacket,

his right hand thrust between two of the buttons,

whilst the mother was offered a chair

by one of the gentlemen.

And, because she didn't

move the chair from where the gentleman had put it,

was left sitting to one side.

It was on that very evening,

and Gregor couldn't remember hearing the violin

in all this time, that there came the sound of it

being played again.

Could Gregor be an animal if music moved him like this?

It seemed to him that this music was showing him

the way to the unknown nourishment he craved.

His sister shouldn't stay with him by force,

but of her own free will

and he would confide to her that he had fully intended

to send her to the music academy,

and that if the current unfortunate circumstances

hadn't prevented it, he would have announced it

to everyone last Christmas.

Christmas had surely been and gone by now, hadn't it?

At this announcement, his sister would be moved to tears

and Gregor would raise himself up

as far as her shoulders and kiss her neck,

which she had kept free of ribbons or collars

since she had started working in the shop.

- Mr. Samsa!

- Oh, oh.

- I demand an explanation, do we not?

- Indeed we do. - Quite so.

- We were not informed, as I recall,

that we would be sharing our accommodation with that!

- Never a word. - Kept completely hush-hush.

- I demand an explanation, Samsa.

At once!

- On the spot! - Forthwith!

- Without delay.

- I wish it to be known that in view of the quite

repugnant conditions prevailing in this abode,

I herewith tender our notice with immediate effect.

- Quite so. - Precisely.

- Indeed!

And!

For the time we have been here,

we will, of course, not pay a single penny.

Rather, may you be forewarned

that we shall be considering whether or not

to take legal action by way of gaining some redress.

Ha!

- Mother, father, we cannot go on like this.

If you cannot see it, I can.

I refuse to utter the name of my brother

in front of this, this monster.

I will say very simply, we must be rid of it.

We have tried our best to look after it

and to tolerate its presence.

I don't think anyone can blame us now.

We have suffered enough.

- She's right.

- We must find a way of getting rid of it.

Otherwise it will kill you both.

I can see it coming.

We can't all go on working as hard as we do

because of this monster in our midst

and putting up with this endless torture in our own home.

You, father, slaving away as a glorified errand boy,

bringing breakfast to the lowliest minion.

Mother working her fingers to the bone

with all this dressmaking.

Me, run off my feet all day in the shop.

And then there's the mess.

- But what are we to do, my child?

If only he understood us.

If only he understood,

we could come to some sort of agreement.

- He must go!

It's the only way, father.

You must stop believing that it's Gregor any more.

Our misfortune is that we have gone on

believing it for so long.

How can it be Gregor?

Gregor would have realised long ago that it was impossible

for humans to live together with a creature like that.

He would have left us of his own free will.

We would lose our brother, but we could go on with our lives

and hold him dear in our memories.

But, as it is, this creature persecutes us,

drives our lodgers out so that he can occupy

the whole apartment.

Look, look, he's starting again!

Don't you dare!

Haven't you done enough already!

- Leave him, leave him.

Look, he's going back to his room.

Gregor began his efforts anew.

When he had completed the turn,

he started to move straight ahead.

He was amazed by the considerable distance

which separated him from his room,

and couldn't understand how, in his weak state,

he had covered the same distance

just a short time beforehand and scarcely been aware of it.

It was only when he was at the doorway

that he turned his head.

- At last.

- "And now?" - Gregor asked himself.

He soon discovered that he could no longer move at all.

He didn't find this surprising.

Rather, he thought it must have defied

the laws of nature that he had been able to manoeuvre himself

about on these little legs at all up to now.

Apart from this, he felt relatively comfortable.

It was true that his whole body ached,

but it was as if the pain was getting weaker and weaker

and would eventually disappear altogether.

He now even scarcely felt the rotting apple in his back

and the inflamed area around it.

He thought back on his family with tenderness and love.

Then his head sank fully down of its own accord.

His opinion that he had to disappear was,

if at all possible, even more resolute than his sister's.

In this state of peaceful reflection,

he remained until the clock tower tolled three

in the morning.

Then he just managed to glimpse

the world outside his window growing lighter.

- Morning!

Oh.

Come on, you idle, old cockroach.

Get up, it's morning.

Oh, so we're sulking, are we?

Come on, come on.

Itchy-kitchy-coo.

Well I never.

Here, come and look at this!

Dung beetle's gone and kicked the bucket,

well and truly kicked the bucket.

- Dead? - That's what I said.

Stiff as a board.

- Thanks be to God.

Must get on.

- Nothing left of him.

- Come in with us for a while, Greta.

- Where is our breakfast?

- Leave my house at once.

- What do you mean?

- Exactly what I say.

Out!

All of you.

Now!

- All right.

We'll go then.

Morning.

- Well, that's me done for today.

- Is there something?

- Don't you fret about how to get rid of it.

Don't you fret about that side of it.

It's all been seen to.

- Well?

Hmmph!

- Hmm.

And a very good morning to you too.

- I shall dismiss her tomorrow.

Oh, come on you two.

We must put all of this behind us.

Pay me a little attention now, hmm?

Then all three left the apartment together,

something they hadn't done for months and took the tram

into the open country outside the city.

They discussed their prospects for the future,

and it became evident on closer examination,

that these weren't at all bad,

since all three of their jobs looked especially promising.

But the best and most immediate improvement would be gained

by moving to a smaller, less expensive

but more conveniently-situated apartment

than the one Gregor had found for them.

The carriage in which they sat alone was bathed

in warm sunlight.

It struck Mr. and Mrs. Samsa,

as they observed their young daughter,

how, despite all the suffering

which had given her such pallid cheeks,

she had blossomed into a lovely young woman.

- Time to find her a good husband.

And it was like a confirmation

of their newfound dreams and aspirations

that, at the end of their journey,

their daughter was the first to rise to her feet

and stretch her young body.