OK.
I'm going to read a very early poem from my first book
"Halfway."
It's really an adaptation from the German, not a translation.
But it's an adaptation from a children's book
that I was raised on.
A book so terrible that when our own kids were growing up,
it was the only book we ever kept hidden on the bookshelves.
And we hid it behind the Henry Miller.
[LAUGHTER]
There's a book called Der Struwwelpater
by Heinrich Hoffman.
And I think it's peculiar to my generation, certainly much more
than to yours.
It's a series of nasty moral tales
designed to terrify the young into behaving themselves.
Like on one page, a little girl is playing with matches,
and on the next page, there she is, burning to death.
Very instructive.
And this is called "Fräulein Reads Instructive Rhymes."
The Fräulein is the nurse girl or the governess or some such.
And there are four episodes.
"First hear the story of Casper, the rosy cheeked.
Once he was round and fat.
He ate his dinner up.
Then see on Monday night, nothing will Casper eat.
Tuesday and Wednesday, nine, Casper throws down his cup.
Watch him shrink to a stick, crying nished all that week.
Sunday, he whispers, nished, and falls down dead.
Now they must bury him in the black Earth.
He's meek.
And by his grave, they leave Casper his meat and bread.
Therefore, says Fräulein, slicing the sauerbraten,
eat what I fix for you.
See what can happen.
[LAUGHTER]
Next prances Friedrich, the terrible tempered.
He pulls the wings from flies.
He wrings the chicken's necks.
See, with a long horse whip, how in this picture.
He lashes the maid who cries into her handkerchief.
Wait, aber, all is well.
Here the big dog comes in.
Angry black dog bites his knee and holds fast.
Now the hair doctor pours Friedrich bad medicine.
Downstairs, the napkin dog eats Friedreich's liverwurst.
Child, says Fräulein, clicking her thimble cup, good, ja,
be good or the dog comes to eat you up.
Now look at Conrad, the little thumbsucker.
Ah, but his poor mama cries when she warns him,
the tailor will come for his thumbs if he sucks them.
Quick, he can cut them off easy as paper.
Out goes the mother and whoop goes the thumbkin in.
Then the door opens.
Enter the tailor.
See in the picture, the terrible tongue
in his grinning red mouth.
In his hands, the great shears.
Just as she told him, the tailor goes clip on clop.
Eight fingered Conrad has learned a sad lesson.
Therefore, says Fräulein, shaking her chignon,
suck you must not or the tailor will chop.
And here is smart Robert, the flying boy.
Bad one.
Whee, how the storm blows and coughs in the treetops.
Mama has told him, today he must stay in.
But Robert slips out with umbrella and rain cap.
Now he is flying.
The wind sucks and pulls him.
See he is carried up smaller and smaller.
His cap flies ahead of him.
No one can help him.
Therefore, says Fräulein, smoothing her collar, mind me,
says Fräulein.
God stands up in heaven.
See how he watches.
He snatches the bad ones."