Dressed in a shimmering, doll-sized cheerleader uniform,
and surrounded by adoring fans
and wide-eyed Polly Pockets,
my grinning five-year-old grand-daughter
bounces to a tinny version
of the Wildcats fight song,
filling the room with the unsynchronized rustlings
of a pair of pink, plastic pom-poms
and an occasional, breathless, “Go, Kentucky! ”
The elf-like voices of her admiring friends urge her on
as her inhibitions fall among the torn gift wrap
littering the floor.
At the final notes of the familiar refrain, she strikes a pose,
pom-poms extended and silent,
awaiting the applause of her appreciative audience.
And I feel an overwhelming anticipation of victory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem