Tired after the mad rush of today to translate
a typical soap opera conversation, he said, she
said, someone asked, the chairperson replied,
trying to keep my brain awake when desultory
remarks posing as minutes change it to mush
I must continue at home, stay in this uniform flow
until I reach the opposite side of this river of words,
churning about, foam afloat and nothing else, tonight
must be the final attempt, due date’s tomorrow, oh
night of sorrow, I foresee dipping my boredom
In the much deplored demon drink of moral Topaz
McGonagall – and who can blame me…
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