Dưới bầu trời yên tĩnh trên sông Cửu Long Under quiet skies on the Mekong

Blue plastic tarps drape one family business Water beetle tight beyond bamboo fences, Dividing the spaces aboard for work, Or sleep, or laundry, or cooking pork. A child sorts melons, a mother cooks, One elder sorts onions, another looks For fruit in baskets, she easily tosses One ripe pink melon to mix in her sauces. A riderless bike left abandoned on shore, The rider is poling herself home once more Toward her space on the river to savor the peace. The day disappears and her body favors sleep. From a bike or a barge, wheeled cart, or a van, Walking onto a plank or a boat from the land, The People of Rivers are confident, proud To thrive on the water under silent, gray clouds