Woman Water Seller
Zhang Kejia

Last year he did everything,
Phlegm wheezing in his throat
Just as the bellows wheezed,
Pulled in, pushed out.
Calm, relaxed,
She sat on the doorsill,
Nursing her younger child,
The older one nestled against her leg.
Her eyes shone with affection.

This year she herself sits at bellows,
The white wool of mourning
Wound in her disheveled hair.
The older child trots along
With a water ladle,
Helping as much as he can,
While the younger one lies on the ground,
Rolling this way and that,
Crying his eyes out.
Eyes fixed on him, teeth set,
Hands working the bellows,
She mutters:
"I'll do it all, I'll do it all!"