A toddler reading poetry about war.

Even if you can't understand what he's saying...just watch him. He starts reading after about 35 seconds.




I'll try to translate..

On the pitiless small Earth
lived once a small man.
His service was small
and he carried a very small briefcase.
He received a small paycheck...
and once - on a wonderful morning -
knocked on his window,
a small, so it seemed, war...
He was given a small weapon,
he was given small boots,
he was given a small helmet
and a small - in size - overcoat..
...And when he fell down -- unsightly, so wrong,
with a cry of attack distorting his mouth,
then on the entire earth there was not enough marble
to make the sculpture of the fellow from head to toe!


"На Земле безжалостно маленькой
жил да был человек маленький.
У него была служба маленькая.
И маленький очень портфель.
Получал он зарплату маленькую...
И однажды — прекрасным утром —
постучалась к нему в окошко
небольшая, казалось, война...
Автомат ему выдали маленький.
Сапоги ему выдали маленькие.
Каску выдали маленькую
и маленькую — по размерам — шинель...
...А когда он упал — некрасиво, неправильно,
в атакующем крике вывернув рот,
то на всей земле не хватило мрамора,
чтобы вырубить парня в полный рост! "

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"...Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams."

-excerpt from Kahlil Gibran

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