Bürstner Speaks (II)

I was six or seven at the time — my parents pulled me to the side:
«Bürstner,» they said, «How do we explain; you have something living inside
No one knows when you will lie down, pushing Baby out onto the ground;
We don’t have a date to look for: ten months, two years — maybe even more
We know that it’s hard to understand, Bürstner, but you need to know now
Think always on Baby, eat right; he’s your little life within a life."
It would be a lie to say that after fourteen years it all makes sense;
Baby hasn’t come and so I watch the horses, swinging on the fence