Slaughters

Today's poem was published online at Jintian on April 15. It's written by Pan Xin'an (潘新安), who I'd not heard of before and couldn't really find any biographical info on. Oh well. This one really struck me in the original, and presented some pretty significant translation difficulties. In particular, there's a portion where he uses what I think is a slang term for gambling - 'killing pigs' - that I couldn't find a proper analogue for in English, so apologies if that section's a bit rough. Also, if anyone knows for certain what's meant here by "放炮子," I'd appreciate hearing it.  I took it to mean cheating, but could it also mean "fired a gun"? The "子" is messin' with my head.

All of which brings me to a big thought about this process - screwing things up. I feel basically certain I will wildly misinterpret at least one thing in each poem I try to translate. But hey, that's life. Any Chinese speakers out there, your guidance is beloved. And English speakers, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this (or any translation in the future) just as a poem in English - what works and what doesn't.

杀戮 我亲眼见过的杀戮 从小时候杀鸡开始 但父亲总是叫我转过脸去 印象最深的一次 是看两个收蛇的异乡人 杀蛇取胆 在恐惧中我睁大了眼睛 日常的杀戮无处不在 被杀白的身体 仿佛是它们自己要捧出自己的 肚腹和心肝 而那些爱玩的人 把时下盛行的赌博也戏称为 杀猪 他们总能把一种血腥 表达得诙谐和风趣 那天他被一帮人追赶 最后砍死在菜场的门口 让真正的屠夫们吃了一惊 据说达三十七刀 他是外地人，在赌场上放炮子 在浴室里放小姐 在这个饱受屈辱的国家 如果你是爱国者 你就必须高喊：杀！杀！杀！ 但如果你天生胆小 你就转过脸去 -潘新安

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Slaughters The slaughters I’ve seen started as a child, with chickens - but father always made me turn and look away. The time that affected me most was seeing two poachers from another town kill snakes to get their guts, and in fear I opened my eyes wide. Everyday slaughter is not to be found in those slain, white bodies, looking as though forced to hold with both hands the weight of their own hearts, and entrails. And those people who love to play portray their gambling playfully, calling it  ‘killing pigs.’ They somehow smile at a bloodiness and take it for humor and wit. The day he was chased down by a crowd and hacked to death at the entrance to the market - that made the real butchers swallow their shock. It’s said there were thirty-seven knives. He was from out of town, pulled a con at the casino, fucked a prostitute in the bathroom. Here in this humiliated country, if you’re a patriot, you must scream: kill! kill! kill! But if you were born cowardly, you can just turn and look away. -Pan Xin’an (t. Rob Voigt)