Regularly, stationery popped up
From the Hubert Young Hostel base
Alongside local dishes and traditional brew
To feed the pace
Of shifting sophomore studies
Towards the Mathematics mace.
Time-tested typewriter tabs mimed melodious music,
Bobbed up and down
To produce outstanding output
For the grown man in a brown gown,
Improve his diction and word power
And from his friendly face remove the feeble frown.
Although hypertension, diabetes and blindness struck him,
They failed to break down his vocation
To bring hope and succour
Where a vacation
Would help others to press on
And serve moms during lactation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great praise for Uncle Simon. Nice write.