Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder

Still ist die Nacht

Die Heimkehr ~ Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder written by Heinrich Heine translated by A. S. Kline

Der Tod, das ist

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My child, we were just children,
Two happy kids, that’s all:
We crept into the henhouse,
And hid there in the straw.
 
We crowed like the cockerel,
And all the passers-by –
Thought our: ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’
Was the real cockerel’s cry.
 
We papered over the boxes
We found around the yard,
And we lived there together
In our elegant house of card.
 
The neighbour’s cat, the old one,
She often came for tea:
We paid her our respects, then,
I bowed and you curtseyed.
 
We asked how she was feeling,
Politely and with care:
Since then we’ve said the same
To many an ancient fur.
 
We often sat there chatting,
Sensibly, as folks do,
Complaining how much better
It was in our day too:
 
How love and faith and loyalty
Have vanished from the earth,
How dear the coffee is now,
How hard to garner wealth!….
 
They’re gone our games as children,
Everything goes, we see –
Wealth and Earth and ages,
Faith, love and loyalty.