/ to my dearest son Daniel Maximilian W
for that time when he’ll reach
the age of Comprehensivity /
/english re-edition/
Why ‘tis so that (the) child loves to hear the singings,
Child (not) in the age of one-day?
Why ‘tis that this animal likes to listen the stories,
Never stepped yet in the age of the Brain?
Not in the age of the Theatre, he makes all grimases,
Never learnt there laughter or fright;
He plays eyes such, as if he’s in the age of Truth even;
And far from the age of the Judge, he cries.
Never felt yet (in) the age of the Death there,
He gives himself to the looks of all-lean^ed heads;
Why ‘tis that? Not in the age of Revange yet,
This babe waves against the evil of false-words of false-breaths.
Look, not in the age of all-tormented Passion
He pulls his arms into invisible Far Space;
And never reach yet the age of the Wisdom (to mention),
This being wins upon sadness with (one even) gaze.
He heeds to…As if in the age of New Legend…
Dear friend, don’t you know where this melancholy from?
An infant can’t see, but do love unknown sights and the sences,
So uncomprehensibly lives in us through each age, of each form…
/03.01.2011 – Moscow/
http://www.stihi.ru/2010/03/30/1536