O Lord how stunning to see your name
emblazoned in print nearly 3 decades
after your passing.
Hallowed be your name I see
in professional French books and articles,
and in Russian language and English print.
I remember when I was little and
had nothing to myself but my nickname
how silently proud I was to be your son.
And how eager I was to match your
then already in print notoriety that I sought
even by proxy. Your kingdom has come,
your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.
I remember to this day how proud I was
to see my own name the first time
in newspapers displaying my maladroit
scooter-driving feats that ended
under a truck.
And now that you have reached the apogee
you so long ago deserved, only now I can,
with my eyes tearing, show how much
I still love you.
O dear Father, thank you for the bread
you brought to my eager mouth
and all that teaching to my ears.
I still hear you, three quarters centuries later
leading me, not into temptation.
Check mate!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem