The Moon's mischief his smile, 
a flowers oozing honey drip.
His toddles; joyous sways
of greenly meadow grass
and babbles sweet and sly
are tender whiffs of wind! 
On paper soiled, effaced
of life's serrated dots; 
a colorful jot, this tot! 
Realised for what I raced
lifelong, unlacing knots
of operose past. He's true, 
a wrinkle's straightened mirth...
a grandpa's newest birth!                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    