What is age but another translation?

I've blipped a couple of Edwin Morgan poems before; here and here ...

... well, this one is about Morgan, and is taken from Jackie Kay's pictured 2011 collection:


Strawberry Meringue
for Edwin Morgan

The time before the last time I saw you
my mum and I bought you a strawberry meringue,
a vanilla slice and a cream fancy
and round your bed we three
had our own wee tea party;
a nice auxiliary, Nancy, brought the tea,
and we thought of words to rhyme with meringue.
Did you say harangue? Am I right or am I wrang?

The old Home used to take you to Dobbies
on Mondays where they did marvellous meringues,
you said, your boyish eyes gleaming.
Then you asked me if I'd read Orhan Pamuk's
Snow, or Red, which was open on your bed,
and told me of a poem
you were translating from the Russian.
and asked after my son, and Carol Ann.
Love, you said. Ah love, wistfully.
If you can be friends you're doing not bad.

In your room today are perhaps a dozen books
and a few favoured paintings; life pared down,
clean as an uncluttered mind.
Friendship, dear Edwin, a scone, a meringue,
and your poems hovering like old friends too,
or old lovers - Strawberries, that last thrilling line -
was it let the storm wash the plates?
Nancy puts the rest of the cakes
in the fridge for later.
You are ninety! Happy Birthday Edwin!
Your head is bussing with Variations,
And what is age but another translation?