A disc the yellow of old ivory, and then,
for the first time in a life oblivious,
it comes into focus, the face of the man
in the moon. Not just a disease of pock
and shadow, but the full faced caricature,
the same as seen by you, unknown illustrator
of my Mother Goose, fellow artist
once maligned - now vindicated.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem