FROM STRUWWELPETER
by Heinrich Hoffmann
Translated from the German in 2014
Struwwelpeter
See, here stands this creature.
Eww! It’s Struwwelpeter.
On both of his hands,
his nails, as he stands,
haven’t been cut for a year.
Neither has he combed his hair.
Eww! What a creature!
Awful Struwwelpeter!
The Story of the Black Lads
There came a-walking through a park
a Moor whose skin was raven dark.
The sun shone hot on our Othello,
so up went his nice green umbrella.
Ludwig came, with the speed of light,
waving Prussia’s flag at the sight.
Kaspar came to the spot as well,
carrying a pretzel, you can tell.
And Willi did they not outsing:
he brought with him his stick and ring.
And all three laughed at line of sight,
“because his skin is black as night!”
Then came the Mighty Nicholas
with his great inkstand. Lord! Alas!
“You children won’t listen to me!
Why not calm down and leave him be?
Such racist jokes are all unfair!
It’s not his fault his skin’s not fair!”
But they laughed louder than before
at the poor raven pitch black Moor.
Then Great Nick turned wicked with rage,
just see the picture on this page!
He caught the fair-haired children three,
their coats, their arms, they were not free.
Kaspar fought back, cried “Open fire!”,
but Nick dismissed him as a liar.
Into his inkstand (Lord! Alas!)
dunked them the Mighty Nicholas.
Look at them now! What a sore sight!
All three are really “black as night”.
Had they shown tolerance and care,
I bet their skin would have stayed fair.
The Story of the Thumbsucker
Mrs. Mum said: “Konrad, son,
right now shopping I’ll be gone.
You’re a big boy. Thus, no quips,
and keep your thumbs from your lips!
Or the Schneider will arrive
before you can count to five,
cut your thumbs off with scissors hard,
as if they were made of card”.
As soon as Mum was out of sight,
he tucked in his right thumb aright.
Thud! Someone opens the door,
and then, without warning before,
the Schneider springs (this looks so bad!)
towards Konrad, the sucker lad.
Scissors flash at lightning speed,
blood flows on the floor indeed,
With sharp scissors! Cold, hard steel!
And such a pain Konrad does feel!
When Mum has come home again,
her child bleeds like a fountain pen.
Without thumbs, frozen, there he stands:
both have been severed from his hands.
The Story of Soup Kaspar
Young Kaspar was a sterling lad,
nigh spherical, red cheeks he had,
and every evening, he was able
to finish his soup at the table.
Yet, one day, he began to whine:
“I will have no soup today! Nein!
I won’t eat that disgusting soup!
No, for that soup I’d never stoop!”
The next day, as I now relate,
he had already lost some weight.
Yet still he did not cease to whine:
“I will have no soup today! Nein!
I won’t eat that disgusting soup!
No, for that soup I’d never stoop!”
On the third day (this looks so bleak!),
we find our Kaspar pale and weak!
Yet he’s got strength enough to whine:
“I will have no soup today! Nein!
I won’t eat that disgusting soup!
No, for that soup I’d never stoop!”
On the fourth day (poor little thing!)
Kaspar was slender as a string.
He weighed like one sole crumb of bread…
and, on the fifth day, he was dead.
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