I believe the records date back to the early eleventh century. You would know, my love, as we have also shared our profession. The patients would be seized for an extended procession. To the bloody altar, they would be slowly lowered down. They would begin to drown in the agony of their pain. With a swift gash, their appendix, liver or one of the intestines would appear in its carnage glory. The spectators’ eyes would revel in their gory inventory.
Can you see now, my beloved, how it had felt at the time of my alive-autopsied end?
Dear visitor, I am posting my weekly HAIKU not only on audio but also as text this time. My Turkish and German translations appear under their designated headings. What I hope to be a more convenient approach for anyone with potential audio-issues comes to you with my heartfelt thanks to a very dear poet friend, Jean-Jacques Fournier, for his suggestion in this direction. (Thank you also for being an avid reader of my poetry and for leaving your precious comments for me to cherish, dearest Jean-Jacques!)
eager ants at work
hauling loads bigger than life
never losing hope
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