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THE
CLAY MAN Hey,
Doctor, what
shall we do with the
clay man? He
doesn't want to study. "My
eyes, he says, crumble
from the letters. His
eyes look like frightened
drops. Unfit
for a soldier. Wearily
the military committee found
dove disease in
his brain. No
good for a clown - he
trembles badly, trembling
to the right trembling
to the left his
smile Hey,
Doctor, what shall
we do with the clay man? The
doctor raised his hand to his forehead. Earth
after drought - that's what his forehead is. The
doctor doesn't believe in
God's mastery. The
strong one doesn't believe the weak. The
fish doesn't believe that the net's hugging it. The
healthy one doesn't believe the
sick. The
tree doesn't believe in
the saw's kiss. The
living one doesn't believe the dead. He
doesn't believe in the doctor, the
clay man. Boiko
Lambovski From “Messenger”, tr. Kristin Dimitrova
Boiko
Lambovski
was born at 1960 in
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