By Franz Kafka
Before the law sits a gatekeeper. To this gatekeeper comesa man from the country who asks to gain entry into the law.
But the gatekeeper says that he cannot grant him entry atthe moment. The man thinks about it and then asks if hewill be allowed to come in later on. “It is possible，” says thegatekeeper， “but not now.” At the moment the gate to the lawstands open， as always， and the gatekeeper walks to the side，so the man bends over in order to see through the gate into theinside. When the gatekeeper notices that， he laughs and says：
“If it tempts you so much， try it in spite of my prohibition.
But take note： I am powerful. And I am only the most lowlygatekeeper. But from room to room stand gatekeepers， eachmore powerful than the other. I can’t endure even one glimpseof the third.” The man from the country has not expected suchdifficulties： the law should always be accessible for everyone，he thinks， but as he now looks more closely at the gatekeeperin his fur coat， at his large pointed nose and his long， thin，black Tartar’s beard， he decides that it would be better to waituntil he gets permission to go inside. The gatekeeper giveshim a stool and allows him to sit down at the side in front ofthe gate. There he sits for days and years. He makes manyattempts to be let in， and he wears the gatekeeper out withhis requests. The gatekeeper often interrogates him briefly，questioning him about his homeland and many other things，but they are indifferent questions， the kind great men put，and at the end he always tells him once more that he cannotlet him inside yet. The man， who has equipped himself withmany things for his journey， spends everything， no matter howvaluable， to win over the gatekeeper. The latter takes it allbut， as he does so， says， “I am taking this only so that you donot think you have failed to do anything.” During the manyyears the man observes the gatekeeper almost continuously.
He forgets the other gatekeepers， and this one seems to himthe only obstacle for entry into the law. He curses the unluckycircumstance， in the first years thoughtlessly and out loud，later， as he grows old， he still mumbles to himself. He becomeschildish and， since in the long years studying the gatekeeper hehas come to know the fleas in his fur collar， he even asks thefleas to help him persuade the gatekeeper. Finally his eyesightgrows weak， and he does not know whether things are reallydarker around him or whether his eyes are merely deceivinghim. But he recognizes now in the darkness an illuminationwhich breaks inextinguishably out of the gateway to the law.
Now he no longer has much time to live. Before his death hegathers in his head all his experiences of the entire time up intoone question which he has not yet put to the gatekeeper. Hewaves to him， since he can no longer lift up his stiffening body.
The gatekeeper has to bend way down to him， for the greatdifference has changed things to the disadvantage of the man.
“What do you still want to know， then？” asks the gatekeeper.
“You are insatiable.” “Everyone strives after the law，” says theman， “so how is that in these many years no one except me hasrequested entry？” The gatekeeper sees that the man is alreadydying and， in order to reach his diminishing sense of hearing，he shouts at him， “Here no one else can gain entry， since thisentrance was assigned only to you. I’m going now to close it.”
