he was both egocentric and bombastic in his written stories
a shameless fabricator to whom truth was strange and lost
as headstrong as a mule and periphrastic speaking of his glories
his journeyman achievements all were added to and much embossed
infrequent sales no less gave rise unto a bloated sense of pride
while frequent broodiness his sense of joy at all of this belied
he wasn't much displeased with sparse attendance at book signings
tho rare aficionados sometimes come to beg an autograph
he spoke in generality of projects he was now designing
trademark chartreuse quill in hand was too absurd to make us laugh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem