The Pig's Head
It was a snowless winter day
the graves of my ancestors seemed like alien beings
squatting in the forest, ready to grow limbs
my father had brought firecrackers, paper money, candles
and I had a pig’s head in a basket on my back
that he’d made me carry
it was heavy, and it had its own tail in its mouth
it smiled as we laid the offerings on the grass before the graves
after the merry crackling blaze
stone silence fell around us
I had no idea which relatives of mine lay there under the earth
some of them I’d never even met
but still, following my father’s lead
I lit the candles, knelt, brought my forehead to the ground
again and again, and spoke to them
then I carried the pig’s head and tail
onward through the endless bamboo forest
walking onward, endlessly
my father, the pig’s head, and I
beneath a grey sky from which no snow fell
when the snow finally came, the pig’s head was gone
leaving me alone in the vast bamboo
forest of the human world
where I am walking still
About the translators
Austin Woerner is a Creative Fellow in Chinese-English literary translation at the University of Leeds.
Jiang Jiaying is a student currently enrolled in the Conference Interpreting and Translation Studies MA course at University of Leeds.