The Awakening of Spring: A Tragedy of Childhood

by Frank Wedekind

I thought I was incurable. I believed I was suffering from an inward hurt.——Finally I became calm enough to begin to jot down the recollections of my life. Yes, yes, dear Melchior, the last three weeks have been a Gethsemane for me.

Melchior.

I was more or less prepared for it when it came. I felt a little ashamed of myself.——But that was all.

Moritz.

And yet you are a whole year younger than I am.

Melchior.

I wouldn't bother about that, Moritz. All my experience shows that the appearance of this phantom belongs to no particular age. You know that big Lämmermeier with the straw-colored hair and the hooked nose. He is three years older than I am. Little Hans Rilow says Lämmermeier dreams now only of tarts and apricot preserves.

Moritz.

But, I ask you, how can Hans Rilow know that?

Melchior.