Doctor and patient

[Mohammad Ahmad]

He said you have tonsillitis
O, doctor it is not tonsil aching
It is my abdomen
He passed his fingers and inspected
No doctor it is not that, be careful
What do you feel O, custom?
I feel that I am exhausted
I feel that I am out of aspiration
But indeed I have too much respiration.
O, doctor, let me sleep as a dead
Let them saying farewell poor-man
Then my name will be a lamp to her
Then my grave will be a shrine to here
Then my soul ascends to heaven
To find there a peaceful haven
There no one could bother me
Don't you have any anesthetic?
I heard that dead persons never sleep.
But they will be alive for last life.
Here in my chest necrosis of emotion
Inherited as a stemmata of Beethoven
And indeed who is familiar to the music,
No doubt, he knows the answer