Poetry on demand

Sometimes one wishes mouth and mind were both wired differently.
In a weak moment I agreed to a request to fix up several poems translated from one language to another. Arrogant, maybe, but I imagined that it should be doable and that I could return the cleaned up poems sometime during the coming spring.
Together with the email containing the horribly translated poems came a deadline. Tuesday. That is today.
I'm doing an exercise in futility. You simply don't produce enjoyable poetry by the dozens in two days. There's a lesson to be learned here I guess.