Heat – no air-con today – realising France’s dream of
saving their coastline due to the Greenhouse effect,
went for a lunch-break stroll singing all the way,
refusing to contemplate office problems
The gods favoured me on my first day, email connection
restored, now I am so privileged to read criticism of the
work I did before leaving on holiday, I am still girdling
my loins with positive thoughts
Before tackling heartbreaking rejection of words I wrote,
New Year’s Resolution: never face today what can be
deferred to tomorrow, stop and smell the roses, I can
read nasty remarks any time
The mere fact of having an office in which to be miserable
is such a source of joy and delight, not to be spoilt with
feelings of inadequacy; why cry about the humours of
those in charge trying to convince me I am
A disaster because I cannot write the words they dictate,
cannot march to the tune they prescribe, kept in my place
by them changing their translation rules every day - I am
thankful that I can still think and feel after years
As a civil servant, I should have turned into a cyborg ages
ago, yet the incessant stream of criticism proves I am still
the same human I was at the beginning – people like me
cannot be changed into robots
No matter how much criticism is directed our way, olé!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem