I wear my father's slippers
This stern man who built a school
And taught of Depression deprivations with sparse words
By the faithful folding of toilet paper.
His shoes are also now my own - worn on special occasions,
And there is nothing ill his being still and put away in all this acquisition.
In these matters one reality is ultimately clear;
It is far better to try to fill your father's slippers
Than to try to fill his shoes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem