O, Civil Service, you are the breath of three million martyrs
You are the light house of human rights
From the dead end of helpless people
Prayers are rushing towards my table
Driven by muscle, muse and money.
Yellow,and black, and pale,and hectic red
Pestilence-stricken multitudes;
You have dropped
Into the womb of Civil Service; a dark wintry bed.
Applications have wings
But they lie cold and low
Each like a corpse within my cabinet and drawyer.
You,Civil Service, become digital and blow like a conch
You infuse life into all the dead horses lying on my writing pad.
I am sitting on files, Over piles I keep piles,
Beside the cabinet,over my head and shoulder, files, files and files…….
Between my legs, into my bags, before my eyes there is nothing but files.
I am drowned into the waves of files and prayers
Bundles of prayers are rising like giant waves
As if I were in an ocean of prayers
As if I were to swim even after my death.
I am blessed and paralyzed with dying network
And autistic trouble-shooting
And puzzled with cloudy direction
There is no glass , no soap , no duster
Few pens, fewer paper, fewest training and plan
No fresh air, no planned care , chair and room for the files
Only one word I hear; hurry up
But very little initiatives to repair the broken hands!
Prayers are rushing towards my table
As birds fly in flocks in the air
Alas! they fall dead by an invisible electric shock
As if short-circuit prevailed around and surrounding my table.
Breaths of undone people are roaming over vales and hills
Dreaming, floating and screaming out of fear
Wild Spirit, wake up from everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; O hear.
!!
I am left into the pacific of prayers
I am dying in rain,lightning and frown
I am spread on the fade surface of covers
All around me are files,files and files
Files are foaming like uplifted hair of some fierce witch
Piles after piles are growing
As if they touched the zenith of the sky
Limitless backlogs are howling like a Tsunami
O, Civil Service, dirge of the common people
You come with black rain,and fire,and hail will burst : Oh, hear.
!!!
O,Civil Service, You wake up from winter sleep
Years after years , decades after decadessssssssssssssssssss you are lying
Lulled by the fallen heritage
O, Civil Service, wake up from the grave of pale covers, hands of stone,
Corrupts,corruption,indecision, licking and oiling
Maltreatment to the heart of civil machinery
Unnecessary hassels and wrongs are crawling in your lap
O, Civil Service, You get up
Destroy the claws of clown bugs
Rise with digital fire; Tune waves of hopes; Awake oceans of works
Reduce piles ;Like a magic leave no files left on my head.
!V
If I were a dead leaf of the yellow files
If I were a child of the world wide wave
And share the impulse of your strength
Only less chained than you, O unbearable.
If even I were as in my boyhood and could be
The comrade of your wanderings on my broken table
Oh! pull me by the neck, by the head and ears
I fall upon the thorns of files! I bleed
Pluck me out of myself
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed me
O, Civil Service, let me be tameless , and swift, and proud.
v
Make me the lyre of the millions; billion hearts of my countrymen,
What if my leaves fall from my spring
The tumult of your mighty harmonies
Will take deep and sweet autumnal tone
From my sadness .
O, Civil Service, be a fierce Spirit
Infringe into my spirit your power and speed
Turn my dead hours into works
Help me play the boat of my knowledge in the Digital Wave
Scatter my fruits and squeeze me for my countrymen
As fire sparks from the dark ashes
Let intimations of immortality peep through my pens
Let us change our mindset like the mastermind of digital dream
The trumpet of a great leader! O, Civil Service,
If winter comes, Can spring be far behind !