Sorry Poem for Pliny

Pliny, this poem is for you:

Me paenitet pudor
deflectere facie rubrae
ex medio publica
induco anum emergentem
ex mare flammea
sub caelo pulveris;
florae parvae, subrufi colori;
et sonitus noctis candens.

Deterior tuo possuent,
nisi prima verba deleta
at tamen, me excuso.

What's this? says Pliny, reading my poetical offering. Are you saying you are sorry? Your Latin is so abysmal that I cannot be sure.

Yes, I'm saying sorry. What's wrong with it?

Translate it for me, says Pliny.

Alright:

Sorry I am, wishing to deflect
the shame of your red face
from public view
I introduced an old woman emerging
from the sea under a sky of dust;
small flowers of reddish hue;
and the glowing red night noise.

It could have been worse for you
had I not deleted what I first wrote
but nevertheless
sorry I am.

Jupiter! exclaimed Pliny. What did you first write? Never mind, he added quickly. Your verb endings are all wrong and your nouns and adjectives don't agree properly. And you are ambiguous as to whether you are excusing yourself or asking me to excuse you.

I thought you would like it, Pliny. But as to the verb endings and the nouns, some crucial pages have fallen out of my Latin dictionary.

That need not be a disaster, says Pliny kindly, since you have me.