Page 25

Yet the third spoke with a piqued look
In a tone, that I will never forget:

Operating would not remove my ailment,

And furthermore, it held no interest for him!

--

My one solace in these days

Was that, since I was in such a state,

I was allowed to say so many curse words,

I could say anything I wanted.

It changed my tune back to cheerful and jolly -

But the others suffered under it.

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Dyspeptic.

In the beginning the illness wasn't so bad,

I was likely to recover on my own.

But as my relatives, in herds,

assumed to show their caring -

I began to have stomach troubles.

I lost some pounds. -

Now I absorbed salt from Carlsbad en masse,

guzzled baking soda and seltzer like a fool,

drank castor oil from a saucer -

and my gastric flu was finished!

--

In this most dire of episodes

I managed, naturally, to have everything go amiss:
I consulted various doctors,

and they all had various methods:

The first had a healing goal

He prescribed me a pink medicine:

The medicine gradually went away,

The gastric flu - that stayed.

The second examined my tongue and pharynx,

Felt my pulse and announced sophisticatedly:

"I declare you completely healthy,

But - come again tomorrow!"

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Dyspeptic.

[Editor's note: Dyspepsia (from the Greek "δυς-" (Dys-), meaning hard or difficult, and "πέψη" (Pepse), meaning digestion) refers to disorders of the stomach involving symptoms such as heartburn, nausea, pain, or general discomfort. From Wikipedia.]