Well, not exactly crazy in the sense of acting out (I am crazier this way now, LOL), but in a way of having my head full of dreams and a carefree heart, just as I wrote in a poem when I was more or less 19 years old. Here is its rough translation:
"The Moon Child
awakens within me
at dusk
She runs out with an armful of stars - like flowers
And she throws them at the feet of passers-by.
Silently surprised
She stares into the luminous windows
trying to penetrate the secret of the always different color of the light bulb
She calls for the streetlights-beanpoles
To play a game of hopscotch-puddles
She shines with her own, non-reflected light,
And smiles at each paving stone
And later, just before falling asleep
Curled up and
Safely hidden under the blanket of rules
She whispers softly
That there are no Moon Children at all"
