Poetic translation: When the child was a child, He walked with hanging arms, Wanted the brook to be a river, the river to be a stream, and these puddle to be a sea, When the child was a child, he didn’t know that he was, everything inspired him, Everything had a soul, and all souls were one, When the child was a child, he had no opinion, no habit, Sat with crossed legs, Ran out of the stood, Had a swirl in his hair and made no faces when taking a photo. When the child was a child, it was the time for the these questions: Why am I me and not you? Why am I here not there? When did the time begin and when does the space end? Isn’t life under the sun just a dream? Is what I see, hear, and smell nothing but an illusion of a world before the world? Does evil really exist and that people are the true evil ones? How can it be that I who I am, didn't exist before, and that once I that I am will no longer be the I who I am any more. Word to word translation: When/as child child was, Went i