Page 30

I lay on a medical bed - undressed -
and next to me stood the specialist.
First his eyes probed me for a fairly long time.
He gazed on my defenseless nakedness -
Then he suddenly slammed both fists a meter into my guts.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"No!" I said through watery eyes.
Then I might have said "yes." I wagered
that he might have treated my appendix.
The torture got more and more painful:
He pulled on my throat,

Page 29

Please sit, good sir! Your name?
Are you old? Were you born in Prussia?
Your birthplace? Your weight?
Are you married or not?
Have you had to much to eat since yesterday?
Do you have any brothers? Any sisters?
Or are you an only son?
Your job? Your religion?
Your home?" and then after a pause,
"Do you lease or own?"
And he painstakingly wrote down my answers.

To what end he asked these questions, I don't know,
But it seemed to me that probably it was
owing to the height of his fees.

Now I wanted to show him my tongue.
But he told me, scowling, to keep quiet,
and said: "You don't have to say anything.
I can see it for myself! You suffer from stomach problems,
vertigo, morbid weakness,
fainting spells, constant vomiting -"

"No, no," I said, quite frightened, in a cheeping tone,
"It's only a mild ailment!"

But he wouldn't hear it:
"Whether mild or terrible," he shouted angrily,
"That's for me to decide!
Follow me! - Remove your clothes!"
I obeyed, trembling. Only too soon
did I feel total and utter misery:
He wished to extort a confession from me,
He guided me - to his torture chamber -

Page 28

And I had time to practice my smile,
because when I got there, it was half-past one,
and I wasn't due to be there until half-past six!

Finally I joined the back of the line.

I rubbed my cheeks one final time,
as to give the appearance of good health,
then I pranced in.

I bowed while smiling from ear to ear -
And began instantly in a jesting tone:
"A mild ailment---!"

But he didn't pay attention to me.
First he wrote out, in chicken scratch,
the bill for his last patient,

Then he shouted grandly:

"Sit!"

Page 27

And I had absolutely no appetite for it.
Father Winter approached with his pleasures,
and so a plan welled up in my breast:
I would fool the specialist!

Yes, yes, I would go to him looking my best,
"Always smiling and not confessing!"

Page 26

And one day they captured me:
"Because the doctors are at a total loss,"
they tied me and dragged me
by force - to a specialist.

---

I had no confidence at the outset:
They look so regal, so cheerless,
They look half like high priests,
half like executioners.

How fine and lovely your personal doctor is!
He always prescribes white bread and fish.
But if you prefer a giblet,
He'll eventually prescribe that as well.

On the other hand, the specialist,
He is a born sadist!
He prescribes you uncomfortable things,
and bans everything you find palatable!
He prescribes a santarium cure,
that takes only two or three months,
But it's at his private clinic,
So the whole affair takes a half year.