Bored to Death
It’s anatomy and physiology this afternoon —
Oh I’m so tired, and this teacher,
He talks and talks, he must have got
His Ph.D. for talking. I’m too tired
To take notes and I don’t care,
I can’t wait to see him walk out
Through that door. Monday’s always boring
But not as boring as this old teacher,
Thin as a piece of string.
I can’t take it any more, I’ll ask for leave
To go home — better so than idle learning.
Oh what a day! He’s bound to say
“No. You’ve got to stay” — mission impossible,
So though I can hardly stand
I slowly go my home to reach
And the only way is to make a leap
Straight through the window,
Systematically.
Yes I did it! Mission accomplished,
Perfectly!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the way this poem builds up to its zany climax. Reminds me of that Zen koan where everyone had tried different ways to free a goose trapped in a bottle, without success, until the Zen master came up, clapped his hands, and said: 'There, the goose is out of the bottle' - and it was! A well-deserved 10 from me.