Return of the Village Boy

Category: Poetry
In my youth the world was a small pond,
Grandma and red roof, lowing
Of oxen and a clump of trees.
And all around the huge green meadow.
How lovely was this dreaming into distance.
This absolute nothingness as bright air and wind
And bird cries and fairy-tale books.
Far off the fabled iron snake whistled -

Available translations:

English (Original)