Night on the Great River ［three translations］

    Now the child is a runny-nosed stranger

    you've finally decided¹ to share your seat with，

    and the whole thing keeps heaving into the dark.

    The child sleeps unsweetly hunched² against you，

    your side is slowly stinging， he has wet himself，

    so you do not move at all. I know you.

    You sit awake， baffling about a quirky faith，

    and do not shift until morning. This is why

    you are blessed， I think， and usually chosen