Ich bin kein Genie ·

Ich bin kein Genie

Einen jeden neuen Tag
genießt der kluge Mann
da tut er, was er gerne mag
und was er auch gut kann.

Im Schach da siegt er allzu oft
mit Lachen im Gesicht
und kommt der Sieg mal unverhofft
den Stolz, den schmälert’s nicht.

Auch sitzt er gerne am Klavier
die Finger tanzen, springen,
sobald der König mit Manier
Musik bringt zum Erklingen.

Ratschläge gibt er wie ein Abt
an jeden nah und fern.
Wer keine will, hat Pech gehabt,
er gibt sie trotzdem gern.

Dann steht er voller Stolz im Raum,
ein Lächeln ziert’s Gesicht,
die Brust geschwollen wie ein Pfaun
gedacht das Rampenlicht.

Der Hörer ist schon stumm vor Schreck,
“Vergiss’ doch bitte nie!”,
ruft der Mann dann laut und keck,
“Ja, ich bin ein Genie!”

I Am No Genius

Each day, the clever man enjoys,
he does what brings him cheer and poise,
and every skill within his hands
he hones until he well commands.

At chess, he wins with laughing eyes,
his triumphs never fade or wane,
and when a victory’s surprise,
his pride remains the same.

He loves to sit and play the keys,
his fingers leap and fly,
until the king with practiced ease
brings music soaring high.

Like abbots wise, his counsel flows
to strangers and to kin.
And though unwanted, still he throws
his wisdom right on in.

Then proudly in the room he stands,
his smile broad and bright,
his chest puffed out as if by plans
to bask within the light.

The crowd stands speechless, struck with awe,
but hear him shout with glee:
“Forget it not, it is the law—
yes, I’m a genius—me!”

I Am No Genius

Each new day, the wise man takes,
And savors with delight,
He does the things his pleasure makes,
And what he does just right.

In chess, he wins with easy grace,
A smile upon his face,
And if by chance he takes first place,
No pride does he displace.

He loves to sit at his piano,
His fingers dance and leap,
As soon as he, with grand bravado,
Makes music’s secrets seep.

Advice he gives, like monks of old,
To all, both near and far.
Who don’t want it, they’re left out cold,
He gives it, where they are.

Then he stands proudly in the room,
A smile lights up his face,
His chest puffed out, like a peacock’s plume,
He thinks he’s in first place.

The listener’s now numb with dread,
“Please, don’t forget!” he cries,
The man then shouts, with cheeky head,
“Yes, I’m a genius in disguise!”

I Am No Genius

Each new day that comes to be,
The wise man does embrace,
He does what brings him joy and glee,
And what he does with grace.

In chess, he often wins the game,
With laughter on his face,
And if by chance he wins the same,
His pride won’t lose its place.

He loves to sit by piano’s side,
His fingers dance and play,
When with a touch both firm and wide,
The king makes music sway.

Advice he gives, like abbot wise,
To all, both far and near,
If none will heed, no compromise,
He still gives it sincere.

Then stands he proud within the room,
A smile adorns his face,
His chest puffed up like peacock’s plume,
He basks in spotlight’s grace.

The listener, struck dumb with awe,
“Forget not, please!” he cries,
The man shouts bold, without a flaw,
“Yes, I am a genius wise!”