Heavens, psychosomatic headache as I look at the text,
changing font to blue as I always do does not even help
a bit, reading through the text I'm convinced this job is
impossible, no-one can translate the terms
A million acronyms, Draconian measures are required,
deprivation making the text seem better by comparison,
taking note of ECCAS, PNIASA, DDAA, SDRASA,
SAKSS, PTF, CEMAC
Endless infrastructure to be developed, countless human
resources to be trained as ordained by the powers that
be - it was great talking to my colleagues - but sitting
with this text feels like Pestilence
Has me by the throat, choking the life out of me, the
documents already completed cannot be sent to the
client as email stopped working at 09: 23; the work
we do is just a game we play
Relaying the contents of long French documents in
UK English; US English is forbidden, two of my
colleagues outsourcing letters in Arabic and
Italian - I'm regarding the menacing text
The only way to do it is to wait until my supervisor
threatens to throttle me, go with crisis management,
using adrenaline to help me up the hill, once done I
shall gloat high on the mountaintop
Until the next challenge comes along and I again
feel like committing hara kiri on the spot
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem