The dead corridor at level D

The Dead Corridor at Level D

Walking in the shadows of the dead corridor

The idling professor

Indeed felt the throes of a torpor,

The deceptive void of classes once full of fervor,

The echo of darkness in a pool of murmur.

She felt stabbed, played over,

By black ghosts with masks full of ardour.

Level D, a vast tomb! Many an empty chair

Invited her to be shrouded and buried there!

But then she started to enjoy her saunter

As if on the shore, or in a harbour,

Philosophizing her existence in such a quarter

Like a hard judge or a ruthless torturer.

In a deserted corridor

A bare class is a good rouser:

"No student, No teacher."