Virtutes & Vitia

‘Song of Childhood’

When the child was a child,
it walked with its arms swinging,
it wanted the stream to be a river,
the river a torrent
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was full of life,
and all lives were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
it had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not only a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not only an illusion of a world before the world?
Is there really evil,
and people who are really evil?
How can it be that I am who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be?

When the child was a child,
it choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and now eats all of those, and not just a pinch.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now luckily only a few do,
it had provided a clear image of Paradise,
and now it can guess at most,
could not imagine nothingness,
and shudders today before it.

When the child was a child,
it played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
only if it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
it lived on apples and bread, that was enough,
and it’s still that way.

When the child was a child,
berries fell only like berries into its hands.
and they still do now,
fresh walnuts made its tongue rough,
and they still do now,
atop of every mountain
had longing for a higher mountain,
and in every city
had longing for a greater city,
and this is still true,
reached in the treetop for the cherries
as excitedly as it still does today,
was shy in front of strangers,
and it still is,
waited for the first snow,
and even now it still waits.

When the child was a child,
it threw a stick like a spear against the tree,
and it’s still quivering as today.