原文（节选）
右手拿着一把雪亮的小刀，从巷口里走出来，我面目漆黑，步步逼近左手中的一颗水梨。我旋转刀子，斜刮水梨，听到梨树在呼喊。一层层的梨皮逐渐削去，裸出水汪汪的白肉，香气四溢，然而，右手拿住的刀子却沾满了血。
左手一直愤怒着，五指齐向掌心弯曲，抓压，陷入梨肉中，捏紧，破碎无声。后来，才发觉手中并没有水梨，只是一个拳头就像一层一层的梨皮逐渐剥落。
译文
The right hand holds a small, shiny knife. Walking away from the entrance to the alleyway, my features black as pitch, I get closer and closer to the luscious pear in my left hand with every step I take. Turning the knife, I cut on an angle to remove the peel, listening to the screams of the pear tree. Layer by layer, the pear skin falls away to reveal white, juicy flesh. A sweet smell fills the air, but the knife in my right hand is covered in blood.
In the meantime, the left hand has been fuming with rage, its five digits curled in toward the palm and pressing tightly, sunk into the flesh of the pear, squeezing hard, destroying it soundlessly. Only later do I find that there’s no pear at all—only a fist gradually un- raveling like layers of peel. (Simon Patton 译)