No Snow Queen (R)

Everyone went out, or sent out, for a meal tonight;
only I was left with the green beans looking as old
as if they were on Noah’s ark; Nici’s having dinner
in a restaurant, Scorpio & my crocodile son - curry
take-aways from the local Indian place - and told
me generously my meal was the cold broccoli &
cauliflower in the fridge - strangely enough, that
kind announcement failed to inspire - so I took

A chocolate bar from the fridge, a cool lemon drink
and settled myself on the settee watching the Long
Island medium on TV, although I saw that episode
before spirit does not allow me perfect recall & it’s
enjoyable to watch it again; the green beans left in
the pot, luke-warm and awful, that’s why you guys
refused to eat it, right? - the broccoli & cauliflower
left in the fridge - a beggar might pass by who’d

Need it more than I, right? – and there goes the
last bit of chocolate, now I’m seeking something up-
lifting to see me through tomorrow when I shall be
alone & in sorrow: checking a legal statistics text is
like visiting Siberia in winter finding a frozen taiga -
and I’m no Snow Queen now, just a lonely person
faced with old green runner beans, cold broccoli
and cauliflower - while everyone else is enjoying

The herbs and spices of life…

Galloping Lines (R)

Wrestling with my text like a Matador battling the large,
threatening bull, legal implications of a hired, borrowed
or lent agent in a business, reading pertinent articles on
the Web, an enormous animal information victorious over
me, I can’t continue after adding sugar to my coffee and
lose my mind, the wrestling match must wait until I again
think straight, my IPod’s battery is flat, no more music

To keep the little alien occupied while I try to fly a straight
course to translator’s paradise where a pristine document,
black letters proudly printed on a wonderfully clean, sheer,
unlined sheet of paper presented with beguiling allure thus
inviting the reader to fall in love with the succinctly relayed
content - a beaming supervisor delighting in the accuracy
of terms and verbs and clever turn of phrase because

Every annotation’s daintily displayed like shiny facets of a
polished diamond without the dangerous influence of any
emotional denotation - ah, that’s where I fail every time, to
me emotion and life are intertwined, feelings decide choice
of term every time - guided by rhythm and rhyme, the flow
of words in song and aesthetic appeal; oh dear, I’d better
wrestle the document some more to remove all traces

Of feeling in running, flowing, galloping lines

A Pirate Elf

I can work because I’m a piratical elf from the
sun, red blouse denoting sun elf, black pirate
pants speak for themselves; my work station
is a thundercloud - navy-blue bell-shaped mug,
azure paper stand, sapphire and sky-blue dish-
cloths, bright yellow & lime-green mugs for sun-
shine in spring leaves sprouting flowers with

Mountains in shades of pink representing the
setting sun – more dish-cloths draped over
boxes, also one black and white pirate box to
indicate the pirate ship, in the left corner at the
back is my cabin-cum-boudoir with white net
umbrella cover and pink hat hanging debonair
on the hat-stand, pink lace covering part of it

And purple fairy wings – after all, I’m Dewdrop
masquerading as a pirate elf with a mission to
fulfil, checking terms for consistency drinking
a million mugs of tea to keep going - keeping
time with Mozart-and-Tchaikovsky’s classical
clan intimately playing in my ears; with these
entertaining things keeping the little alien in

My head occupied, I’m in heaven today…

Serenading (Rev)

So I’m awarding Rogers and Hammerstein a Nobel
Prize for making me feel better after a devastating
nightmare last night, with Hanlie and Ntsoaki going
along enthusiastically - while Annette and Hermien
ignore my levity with a stolid, stony silence driving
me from Maria I have Confidence right into Simon
& Garfunkel’s The Sound Of Silence, with a black

Nothingness threatening - yet - serenading myself
quietly, I remember Hanlie’s twinkling Tinker Bell &
Fairy Dell words that if we ignore all others we can
soar; thus countering with impish mischievousness
I launch into The Donkey’s Serenade - And all that
the ladies can say is e-e-aaaaaaw - which must be
heard with Mario Lanza lovingly stretching the note

And to cover my tracks but teasing my colleagues,
I hum Guantanamera, Yo soy un’ traductor sincero
de donde crece la palma - because I’m really such
a sincere translator with palm trees at my home –
even when I forget the stoic Spartan attitude of the
serious translation crew in the next act of my much-
maligned Government Service Opera…

[Donkey Serenade:
“There's a song in the air, but the fair senorita doesn't
care so I'll sing to my mule, La bella senorita? Si, si,
mi muchachito, she'd love to sing it too - but all that
the lady can say: is “e-e-aw!"]

Forever Safe (Rev)

Like Penelope embroidering by day & removing stitches
by night while faithfully waiting 20 years for Odysseus -
I’m typing terms of a statistics text into formatted boxes,
I move them attempting to see where they overlap, and
they become mixed up & formatting lost, I have to Undo Text just like pulling out stitches & repeating it again -

While I’m chained by Calvinist work ethics to this desk in Registry, it feels like eons are marching on - alone and
faithful to my oath to work till I’m old enough to go to a
new life thus now I know how Penelope felt, so alone;
then asked Azui - what Victory song we shall sing upon
being released from self-assessment woes, I have it -

Courtesy of Rogers & Hammerstein: “I have confidence
in sunshine, I have confidence in rain, I have confidence
that spring will come again besides which you see I have
confidence in me!” There, my colleague likes it, the walls
in my heart release enough feeling to lessen the pain of
shackles around my legs, bound to a text that doesn’t

Live for me, so dead in its cold financial intent – but I’ll
survive because you will see I have confidence ALONE
in confidence and all I dream will come true, especially
when I meet Financial Dementors trying to suck all the
joy out of me, secure in holding to the image of young Tiffany melting the death-threatening Wintersmith with

Her burning heart - while my heart is yearning, burning
for life, I’m forever safe from the depression the grey
Auditors bring…

Not For Me [Rev]

The plot now looks even more a winter scene, a
story of outlines - and only my tears at the end -
though the heroine said she would also cry the
author never said when; my study turned into an
icy cave, curtains rolled showing white underside,
white scarf framing its scene, white paper pasted
like tiles around the window, lace foaming on the
windowsill and bookcase glittering snowflakes

On the wall a white bow, with silver designs on
transparent fabric covering boxes on the floor -
this is an allergy headache, better take a pill; I
will but only after writing this, IT is why I didn’t
re-read Wintersmith - feelings of sadness, of
loss, any tale of magic takes me that way, a hero
as an elemental with dreams of golden summer
as gleams in the eye

Tiffany wouldn’t have died in an ice palace - but
would’ve been sad forever, thus destroying the
Wintersmith’s dream of being human, breaking
his heart was the right thing to do - wasn’t it? - I
don’t know, he was innocent & sweet - while the
elusive golden-snake-slit gleam of Summer was
nasty to the heroine; in the end Tiffany gave him
his heart carved on a ring and that should be

Enough - though not for me…


[“Wintersmith” Terry Pratchett]

Watch In Peace (R)

Nobody can watch rugby with Scorpio; it’s a continuous
stream of negative comments spoiling all joy in what we
see, and a dour voice drowning sound coming from the
TV. I really enjoyed the France versus All Blacks match
without this raucous commentary spoiling everything

You pride yourself on consideration - but have less than
none when watching TV; all programmes are subject to
your whims, subtext and sermons should the crocodile
kids catch your eye, today I tried to watch the big match
between Kiwis and Springboks but the Scorpio in you

Shouted at our men so much my ears rang and my head
hurt - I fled in confusion, you’ve decreed nobody has the
right to interfere when you watch rugby, and thus without
explanation I left to watch it later without this awful noise,
I don’t care what the outcome is

As long as I can watch in peace…