The Fairy Tale of a Short Mr. Moritz, Who Became Bald [1]
Wolf Biermann [2] (1936- )
Translated by xia23
Wolf Biermann was born in Hamburg in 1936. He moved to the GDR [3] in 1953. He is a well-known songwriter, who analyzed the conditions in the GDR. He had to leave the GDR in 1974, because the government found him too critical. Many people in East- and West Germany protested again that Biermann was no longer allowed to live in the GDR. Today he lives in Hamburg again.
About the text
This fairy tale is a part of a longer story of a character of Mr. Moritz. As a fairy tale it tells of fantastic events. It is also a socially critical text, which tries to discuss problems in the society.
There was once a short old gentleman, whose name was Mr. Moritz and had very large shoes and a black coat for that and a long umbrella stick with which he often walked around.
When the long winter came, the longest winter in the world in Berlin, so people gradually became angry. And the dogs no more barked with rage over the cold, but only shivered and their teeth chattered together because of the cold, and they looked also very bad.
On one such cold snowy day, Mr. Moritz was walking with his blue hat and he thought “How bad everyone is, it is the hottest time, the summer comes and flowers grow.”
And as he walked through the grumbling people in the market hall, crocuses, tulips, lilies of the valley, roses, carnations, dandelions, and daisies sprang up all on his head very quickly. But he did not even notice it at first and his hat had already been up high from his head for quite long, because the flowers kept growing bigger and longer.
Then a woman stopped in front of him and said: “Oh, beautiful flowers are growing on your head!” “Flowers on my head!” said Mr. Moritz, “Such a thing doesn’t exist!” “Yes, just look here in the shop windows. You can see yourselves reflection in them. Am I allowed to pick up a flower?”
Mr. Moritz saw the reflection in the shop window, there were real flowers growing on his head, colorful, large, various kinds and he said: “But please, if you want one….”
“I really would like to have a small rose”, said the woman and picked up one herself. “And I want a carnation for my brother”, said a small girl and Mr. Moritz bent down, so that the girl could reach his head. But he did not need to bend himself over that much because he was somewhat shorter than other men. And many people came and took flowers from the head of the short Mr. Moritz, and it didn’t hurt him, and the flowers always grew anyway. He felt itchy so much on his head, as if someone stroked him friendly. Mr. Moritz was happy that he could give people flowers in the middle of the cold winter. More and more people came together, laughed, surprised and took flowers from the head of the short Mr. Moritz and no one, who had caught flowers, said bad words on that day.
But suddenly the police officer Max Kunkel came. Max Kunkel had already actively been working in the market hall for 10 years, but even so he had not seen this! Man with flowers on the head! He pushed his way through many loud people, when he stood in front of the short Mr. Moritz, he shouted: “What is the thing like that! Flowers on your head! My mister! Show me your personal ID immediately please!”
The short Mr. Moritz searched and searched and said desperately: “I always had my ID with me, I had it in my pocket!” and the more he searched, the more the flowers disappeared from his head. “Aha,” said the police officer Max Kunke, “You have flowers on your head, but no ID in your pocket!” and Mr. Moritz looked for his ID more anxiously and was completely red with embarrassment, and the more he searched – also in his jacket pocket – the more the flowers shrank and the hat gradually went back onto his head!
Moritz took his hat off desperately, and saw that the personal ID was lying under the hat in the worn rubber cover. But what else?
The hair was all gone! The short Mr. Morit had no more hair on his head. He stroked his head embarrassingly and then quickly put his hat on.
“Well, that is your ID card,” said the police officer Max Kunkel friendly, “and you don’t have the flowers any more on your head, how?”
“No…”, said Mr. Moritz and quickly put his ID in his pocket and ran, as fast as one could run on the slippery streets, to his home. There he stood long in front of the mirror and talked to himself: “Now you are bald, Mr. Moritz!”
[1]. p. 358-360. Das Märchen vom kleinen Herrn Moritz, der eine Glatze kriegte. Deutsch Aktuell 3. 5th ed. EMC/Paradigm Publishing, Saint Paul, Minnesota, 2005
[2]. Wolf Biermann: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolf_Biermann
[3]. GDR: German Democratic Republic (formerly East Germany).
