A Young Beggar On The Pedestrian Bridge Poem by Joan Xie

Every day, I pass a pedestrian bridge over a dried river
Where a young man is begging on the concrete floor.
Sometimes I give him five dollars, sometimes none.
He always says to me, "Happy Long Life! "
His gray-blue eyes pure, like fresh snow
Enveloping the eaves of an old temple.

Is he disabled?
He shows no sign of lacking.
Once I saw him leaping to catch a raindrop.
Another time he hooked himself to a dangling rope.
Always polite
He says to everyone who gives him money
"Happy Long Life! "
As they pass him, eyes low, shoulders sagged.

One evening his paper cup was blown by the wind.
Coins rolled down to the bridge edge.
I picked up a dim and passed to him,
"Who sent you here? " I asked curiously.
He looked at me with his pure smile,
"Happy Long Life! "
Bright in his palm, a fire kindled.