It’s the first Olympics on the moon,
And the crowd is all in helmets and suits.
Out walks the champion at the crack of noon,
And kicks the moon-dust from his boots.
The pole-vault is the upcoming event,
But no high bar is seen in the sky.
Aloft in a rocket module the champion went,
To his homebound spacecraft flying high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem