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 it with hanging arms,
Wanted the brook be a river,
The river be a stream,
And these puddle the see,
When the child child was,
Knew it not, that it child was,
Everything was him inspired,
All souls had And all souls were one.
When the child child was,
Would have it for not a meaning,
Would have no habit,
Sat often in cross legged,
Ran out that stood
Would have a swirl in hair and made no face at the taking a photo
When/as the child child was, was it the time the following questions:
Why am I I and why not you?
Why am I here and why not there?
When began the time and where ends the space?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell not just the glimpse of a world before the world?
Gives it indeed/actually the evil and people, the real the evils are?
How can it be, that I, That I I , before I was, wasn’t,
And that once, that I am, Not more that I am, Be will.
The poem:
Als das Kind Kind war,
ging es mit hängenden Armen,
wollte der Bach sei ein Fluß,
der Fluß sei ein Strom,
und diese Pfütze das Meer.
Als das Kind Kind war,
wußte es nicht, daß es Kind war,
alles war ihm beseelt,
und alle Seelen waren eins.
Als das Kind Kind war,
hatte es von nichts eine Meinung,
hatte keine Gewohnheit,
saß oft im Schneidersitz,
lief aus dem Stand,
hatte einen Wirbel im Haar
und machte kein Gesicht beim fotografieren.
Als das Kind Kind war,
war es die Zeit der folgenden Fragen:
Warum bin ich ich und warum nicht du?
Warum bin ich hier und warum nicht dort?
Wann begann die Zeit und wo endet der Raum?
Ist das Leben unter der Sonne nicht bloß ein Traum?
Ist was ich sehe und höre und rieche
nicht bloß der Schein einer Welt vor der Welt?
Gibt es tatsächlich das Böse und Leute,
die wirklich die Bösen sind?
Wie kann es sein, daß ich, der ich bin,
bevor ich wurde, nicht war,
und daß einmal ich, der ich bin,
nicht mehr der ich bin, sein werde.
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