[^^mac home page] Ode to a Translator. To David's Trans-sorter... I met a man who had no feet. For he wore them upon his hands. And held-open the door for him, did I. And despite the fact that I can not sign (nor he to hear) He made his meaning mainfest to me: Thank you. To Helen's Transitior: Once upon a time there was a cellar (cider or not, or basement or not I know not) And then upon that gushing hand-pumped water's flow: Came lignt into her dark, dark, dark world. Ann (or anne -- of spelling I am not sure ;) I only know that Keller "saw" because of you. To the muses (that allow me to be): I know not from whenc I came, I know not wel of words French, Portugese, or Japanese, I only know that by your tire-less and un-sung efforts (un-sung up until NOW). I know this world better. And of 'tranlators' and 'interpreters' and of 'the go-between's' , no world's beauty would ever be known across even the nearest shore. Back to the POETRY page Back to the MAC home page