The Exploits Of Sensible Stan

excerpt In the chilly mountain breezePoor Stan is apt to freeze.He's shivering like some tramp,Bending double with a cramp.Until noon he's in his tent.All his strength is nearly spentAnd he's lying there like dead.When the sun is overhead,Stan crawls out into the dayAnd he struggles all the wayUp a beech, its branches bare,Hoping for some sunshine there.When the sun sets in the deep,Stan climbs down and starts to weep,Shaking with disease and fear:"Oh, where are you, Mother dear?Pray, come help me, help me stand,Give me water from your hand,Water with a magic spell,To make me instantly well.Where are you, my dear Dad?Come and see your poor ladCrying all throughout the day,Shivering, wasting away…Where's my Granny? Where's my sister?Until now I've never missed her…Wish I played with her again,That would surely ease my pain.My frame's like a sagging sack,I can feel my heart turn black.In this wilderness I pineFor those dear folks of mine.I've been mourning all these days,From now on I'll mend my ways.I'll no longer play the fool,I've a mind to go to school.

by Mihail Celarianu (1893-1985)