In my childhood I ran over the meadow.
Larger-than-life fields, warm sun,
Pure child happiness,
All captured by nature's eyes.
That little girl with blond hair,
Dressing rustic clothes,
Playing hide and seek among
The trees, was all joy.
Legs, oh my legs! Milky as arrowheads,
Those powerful engines, perfectly healthy,
Performed graceful movements, showing
The innocent pleasure of running away.
This sweet remembrance of the past
Now lays only on my bitter memory.
From my wheelchair, this landscape
Seems to belong to someone else.