The Little Grump
With his eyes low, his fists clenched,
Hidden in his pockets,
The cheeks smeared by tears,
Dried by the cold wind,
His heart grieved by unknown feelings,
Words of sadness in his lips,
Complaining, walking, thinking,
Trying to understand his emotions,
Waiting for words of encouragement from a friend,
From a human being.

These can only be found on the heights, on the hills and barren plateaus,
Visited by beings of other worlds and other lands,
And other lives.
Will they know the suffering of the passing days, sad and lonely nights?
Will they understand these hopes, dreams and emotions?
Will they remember from time to time to come and visit me?
They will remember that I also grew up and changed and
That am still here, alone in my suffering
And my visions.