温哥华的这个清晨，儿子和我停步

On this early morning in Vancouver, my son and I stop

在去吃早点的路上听说

on our way to breakfast when we hear

那个肯尼亚人就快要从这儿跑过。

the Kenyan will soon be running past this corner.

我们当然想目睹他优美的身姿，

Of course we want to see his gorgeous stride,

等了半小时，我穿着薄毛衣

but after half an hour I'm shivering

冷得瑟瑟发抖。 这时儿子开始

in my thin sweater. That's when my son begins

摩擦我的后背——献给我他掌心的温暖。

to rub my back--offering up the heat of his palms.

有什么比这更好的呢？饿着肚子站着

What could be better than to stand here hungry

却这样被呵护。 如果我不冷

and be curried like this? If I hadn't been cold

他的双手也不会放在我的脊背上，

I wouldn't have his hands on my spine,

在肩胛之间发热。 一时间

flaring across my shoulder blades. For a moment

仿佛每一刻的脆弱，每一种痛，

it seems possible that every frailty, every pain,

都可能是个契机，是条裂缝，让意外的收获

could be an opening, a crack that lets the unexpected

穿透进来给我。 要怎样才能记住呢？

reach us. How can I remember this

当我老了，需要的又那么多。

when I'm old and need so much?