Sir! Oh Sir!
Xu Zhimo

Rickshaw wheels
Whirling on and on
In a deserted lane.
“Oh, sir, sir! My profound respect!”

From directly in front of the rickshaw
She bends at the knee, quickly,
A girl in a thin Chinese cotton gown,
Her voice still thinner, trembling.
But the wheels roll right along
In a bitter north wind.

Quick, right after the rickshaw,
Quick, quick, right after the rickshaw,
The tattered girl chases shining spokes.

“Sir, have pity on a poor beggar,
Oh kindhearted sir.”

“Have pity on my mother,
Hungry, freezing, sick,
Groaning t the street side, only groaning,
To earn the respect of Heaven
Oh sir, just a penny,
For a meal of corn bread.”

“Got no pennies on me,”
The gentleman finally croaks back,
The gentleman warm in his great fur hat,
Wheels turn, whirling wheels
And the girl chasing after them.

Dust whirled up like a hurricane blast
Shining spokes whirling, whirling like mad,
“Sir, you wouldn’t leave your house
Without money, you wouldn’t, sir!”

“Sir! … … … Oh, Sir!”
Panting, her purple face barely puffs out
Stuttering “Sir”.
Whirling, whirling,
Wheels sweep on like a whirlwind.

Whirling…
Sir…
Whirling…
Sir…
Sir… Sir… Sir…