song of childhood

by peter handke

when the child was a child
it walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
& this puddle to be the sea

when the child was a child,
it didn't know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
& 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 in its hair,
& made no faces when photographed

when the child was a child,
it was the time for these questions:
why am i me, & why not you?
why am i here, & why not there?
when did time begin, & where does space end?
is life under the sun not just a dream?
is what i see & hear & smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
given the facts of evil & people.
does evil really exist?
how can it be that i, who i am,
didn't exist before i came to be,
& that, someday, i, who i am,
will no longer be who i am?

when the child was a child,
it choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
& on steamed cauliflower,
& eats all of those now, & not just because it has to

when the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
& now does so again & again.
many people, then, seemed beautiful,
& now only a few do, by sheer luck

it had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
& now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
& shudders today at the thought

when the child was a child,
it played with enthusiasm,
&, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work

when the child was a child,
it was enough for it to eat an apple, ... bread,
& so it is even now

when the child was a child,
berries filled its hand as only berries do,
& do even now,
fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
& do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
& in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
& that is still so,
it reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
& has that even now.
it awaited the first snow,
& waits that way even now

when the child was a child,
it threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
& it quivers there still today