A Master dandled the sick little child
Slowly spoke words so peaceful, mild
Then gave it back to his waiting parents:
'It will recover, please have some patience! '
There stood a doubtful man nearby
'That's superstition and a lie!
How can a child with gentle words
get well again and step forwards? '
The master looked at him and said:
if those few words gave you a dread
why should they yet not be able
to heal it, help him getting stable?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wise man is telling a story of a wise man. I like it. Go on! Tilly Boesche-Zacharow