Being on this bench
Is just a fatty layer,
Helping mankind is the protoplasm;
This surface gives a salutary
And sobering effect,
Vocation that swallowed me
Like a bollus,
And provides joy whose value
Is beyond computing;
Now I belong to the colony
Of fulfilled men,
All the horrows of boredom
And perplexities, away from the bench
Now gone,
The imposing shade of
'Who am I? ' penetrated by
The reassuring light of
'This is who I am'
From here I see medley
Of great things, and little
Of things mundane and things celestial;
You could thresh my heart and see,
On this laboratory bench
I have workgasm
I have no subterfuge,
Make no evasions,
But embrace the ecstasy on offer
On this bench I gain a loop-full
satisfaction
With libations of blood and semen,
Even the resident gods are appeased;
My fellow about to come,
Let no foe interupt
Until workgasm is attained
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a beautiful poem of finally finding success in attaining inner happiness, peace within and resting in that beautiful garden of bliss. Love this poem very much...Excellent work and fine imagery.....