The old poet, a Canadian of Jewish ancestry,
Was tall elegant, wearing a hat in a jaunty angle
Reminded me of Alfred, my imagined father
He had a winning personality.
Remember the coma they tell me and write
More about love, beautiful women and wine.
I used to wear a six-pence; Alfred made fun
of me, learn to play some music, he said
and read your North Pole stuff; that was a long
time ago before the Canadian became famous.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem