The crutches

By Berthold Brecht

For seven years I could not raise my feet.

When I to the great physician came,

Why the crutches? He inquired deep

And I told him: I am lame.

He replied: That's no surprise.

Be so good and try once more.

If you're lame, it's this device.

Walk, fall, crawl across the floor!

Laughing like a raging devil horned,

my dear crutches from my hands he torned,

He broke them across my back,

and threw them into the burning stack.

Well. I'm cured: My walk is good.

Cured by raging laughter.

Sometimes, though, when I see wood,

I walk worse for some hours after.

- German Original by Berthold Brecht