Thirty thousand years ago
my grandfather and yours
our great, great, great….
great raised to the thousand'th power grandad
painted a cave with lions' heads;
painted with the sure touch
of his grand, grand, grand,
grand raised to the thousand'th power grandson,
Michael Angelo,
and his wife said something
which made him fling down his brush
and go cut firewood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this! Poor Grampa probably never picked up the brush again, much to the loss of mankind.