My Hero can't leap tall buildings with a single bound. He
doesn't wear a black costume with a cape and pointy ears.
He hasn't scored the winning touchdown or shot a three -
pointer at the buzzer to win the championship. My Hero
isn't any of those things.
My Hero has scarred and callused hands from years of hard
work. His hair is gray from worrying if he was going to
have enough money to last another year. His voice is deep
and scratchy from the many stories he told. My Hero is all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem