Just a literal translation of this poem written in about 10 mins. So bear with me please.

In hand, pen and pencil,
on lap, my books,
college only spells disaster,
and in mind, everything but studies.

What’s there in Engineering books ?
Mittal, Mathur, Millman – crazy they are.

Do butterflies need to study?
Do songbirds have to write exams?

In class, if I can sleep, blissful.
If I can dream, heavenly.
But it can’t get any worse,
if flies buzz and
perturb my 40 winks.

Break and Lunch, relaxing.
Sitting in last bench, idyllic.
Walking out unnoticed,
while the class is on, divine.

Exams are enchanting.
Failures are delightful.
Living my life
in the house of arrears, perfect.