Lotte (H)

The First Sorrow of the Child by Andreas Munch

Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing
Like a butterfly she flew about in the gold of the sun
In her golden curls she wore the crown of spring
And her gaze was like the heavens, so bright blue and clear

She wheedled her mother and was true to her doll
She looked at her clothes and her red shoes
But above them all she loved a little bird
Which her father had captured on the snow last Christmas

It sat by the window, freezing, in the winter�s cold and wind
And pleadingly it looked into the warm room within
Then her father put out grain to tempt it to come in
And Lotte gently put it towards her warming cheek

And Lotte was so happy, she alone was allowed
To care for and to comfort the little guest from the forest
She brought the bird its food and kissed it to sleep
Soon it learned to eat from her red lips

It knew her voice and her light step
And thanked its friend with many a lively song.
At the end it sat sad and silent in its cage
It heard spring calling from the green forest

Then it spread it wings and wanted to fly away;
But little Lotte smiled - alas, she understood it not.
She closed the cage securely, she gave it water and seed;
But the bird only wanted freedom, if it was not to die.

One morning she ran early to the bird with food
And laughed loudly on the way and was so delighted;
But, when she came to the cage, then she forgot her song.
The dear bird lay outstretched on the bottom stiff and long.

She took it out carefully and kissed it so tenderly;
But it remained cold and lifeless, - it was not a joke,
Its head sank back, in the eye death lay,
Horrified she let it fall and stared silently at it.

And, at she stood there silent, she became so strange
Before her clear eyes a fog grew
The sweet childhood blush faded from her cheeks
And slowly from her heart a dark pain rose.

She could not know, what this pain was;
But sorrow had written its first rune in her heart
And marked its image deep on her soft features
No longer did it disappear with her last tear

She thought of her mother, but not as lightly as before,
And thus new worlds dawned behind the black veil of grief:
Like a look at the sea from the dark fortress of the coast
So the possibilities of life are revealed by the child�s first sorrow.