Returning guilelessly, innocently, after the Easter
weekend, landing into a bureaucratic explosion of
administrative efficiency & killer statistics, groups
of happy fools drooling to inventory non-existent
old paper copies of ancient documents
All my production reports contain errors - have to
be redone, becoming embroiled in a bitter, heart-
breaking yearly assessment task, work agreement
and more unpalatable administration needs, acrid
tears welling up while I suffer stress of bent back,
Head lolling, bees swarming in my ears, trying to
unravel knots I made during the year to remind me
of what has been done; biggest problem remains
how to explain so few documents received and the
prolific Arabic and Hebrew Studies I undertook
To enrich the Department, albeit indirectly, with my
new-found knowledge & abilities; after this diatribe
I laugh at myself, it’s an easy job made intricate by
my mystery-seeking mind, as soon as I’m finished,
I’ll realise how small is my little task…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem