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Translation of Jhumpa Lahiri’s Short Story (Page 1)

He wakes up disoriented next to his wife, upset from a dream.

He was also next to his in the dream. Still disoriented, upset. They were driving in the country along a road lined by trees and bushes. There was a hazy light. It could have been either a sunrise or sunset. The sky was pale but had a hint of pink.

The landscape evoked an old oil painting: a rural scene, few people, gloomy. The tops of the trees were like a mass of clouds cluttering the sky and the trunks cast subtle shadows accompanying them along one side of the road.

His wife was at the wheel. And while she was driving he was full of anxiety, because the car, even though it was working, was missing its whole body. Aside from the driving wheel, pedals, and gear shift, there was nothing between them and the road.

His wife was driving as if she had not realized it, or as though there was no danger, whereas the absence of the car’s body and their closeness to the road alarmed him.

He yelled to his wife to stop. But as in most dreams, (…)