When I was small, the world seemed massive, quite big,
and it closed around me like a womb, like a womb.
When I was ten, the world was like a sheet of colored paper,
it was a ball and was a ship, two plus two was not four
When you are twenty, the world is empty of love, full of love,
burns a pattern into our skin, makes us rich, makes us great,
When you are thirty, the world is still completely round, still enjoyment,
every puzzle is solved, is still a game and not a nut
When you are strong, the world feeds our strength, our strength,
and you feel like a tree, no axe that could manage it.
When you become older, the world lets no one go, no one go,
and you give your forehead to every hit, every blow
When you are gray, the world is already younger than we are,
sometimes you sit at home, a wind blows, a light wind,
If you were a hundred, the world would also still be a part of us,
if you made it better, drove a wedge into it