Foreign Worlds (orig. Eugen Roth, Fremde Welt)
A man, a fish from deeper waters,
Felt comfortable in darker quarters.
But in him, soon a wish took hold
For regions not so dank and cold,
And boldly, bravely he ascended
To circles not for him intended,
Where he saw fish cavorting free,
All far more beautiful than he,
With somersaults and caprioles,
And lightning-quickness in the shoals.
The man, however, from the deep,
Not built to somersault or leap,
And with his gawking, gaping face,
Felt hideously out of place,
And, sensing he’d disturbed the throng,
Swam back to where he did belong.
Thus we, with paradises too,
Can take an in-deep-endent view.