A dickweed alien has given Superman the "gift" of super-super-super powers. He's supercharged Kal-El so much, that he can barely even move on Earth without being a threat and a menace.
So Supes is running around to galaxy, trying to discharge and "use up" all of this extra energy.
What happens next is perhaps the most Silver Age thing ever:
Not that I'm opposed to translating Shakespeare into other languages. Hell, I own a Klingon version of Hamlet. Because nerd.
And I even accept that a race of 1,000 foot tall aliens would develop a typewriter that was identical to ours, including the placement of the space bar...
But given that the Gruulians are no longer around...really, what's the point?
How about, instead, typing up free copies of Shakespeare's work for everyone on Earth, in their native language? If you really need to "use up" your super-super-super energy?
Or, maybe, just maybe, try ending hunger and poverty and pollution on every nearby inhabited planet?
Oh, never mind, Kal-El. Go on producing reprints of popular Earth works of fiction for an extinct race of giants. We can wait for your attention...
From Superman #198 (1967)