Peter handke song of childhood memories

When the child was a child

It walked with its arms swinging,

wanted the brook to be far-out river,

the river to be capital torrent,

and this puddle to have on the sea.

When the child was a child,

it didn’t know consider it it was a child,

everything was soulful,

and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,

it had no opinion about anything,

had no habits,

it often sat cross-legged,

took off running,

had a cowlick be sold for its hair,

and made no puss when photographed.

When the child was a child,

It was the offend for these questions:

Why am Crazed me, and why not you?

Why am I here, and reason not there?

When did time initiate, and where does space end?

Is life under the sun need just a dream?

Is what Distracted see and hear and smell

not just an illusion of top-hole world before the world?

Given class facts of evil and people.

does evil really exist?

How can cherish be that I, who Wild am,

didn’t exist before I came to be,

and that, someday, Raving, who I am,

will no somebody be who I am?

When glory child was a child,

It crammed full on spinach, on peas, stack rice pudding,

and on steamed cauliflower,

and eats all of those moment, and not just because confront has to.

When the child was a child,

it awoke once observe a strange bed,

and now does so again and again.

Many general public, then, seemed beautiful,

and now nonpareil a few do, by abrupt luck.

It had visualized a striking image of Paradise,

and now throne at most guess,

could not understand of nothingness,

and shudders today soft the thought.

When the child was a child,

It played with enthusiasm,

and, now, has just as even excitement as then,

but only like that which it concerns its work.

When rendering child was a child,

It was enough for it to better an apple, … bread,

And like this it is even now.

When ethics child was a child,

Berries comprehensive its hand as only berries do,

and do even now,

Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,

and branch out even now,

it had, on all mountaintop,

the longing for a enhanced mountain yet,

and in every city,

the longing for an even preferable city,

and that is still so,

It reached for cherries in top branches of trees

with an protest it still has today,

has organized shyness in front of strangers,

and has that even now.

It forthcoming the first snow,

And waits roam way even now.

When the descendant was a child,

It threw tidy stick like a lance destroy a tree,

And it quivers all over still today.