Little Häwelmann

Giovanni: Hello kids, welcome to my little reading corner. I’m Giovanni—petit Giacomo’s inseparable and rather tall Doberman brother. Together with Tilly, our feisty good friend, we go on many adventures.

Before bed, I like to read to them, and you are invited to listen in as well.

There… are you comfortable? Good. Let’s begin.

Giovanni: Tilly? Giacomo? It’s time for bed.

Tilly: Already?

Giacomo: But I’m not sleepy yet.

Giovanni: Yes, yes… Then how about a story? We can drift into dreamland together.

Tilly: Which story?

Giovanni: Well, let’s see. Where did I put my book…? Ah. Here it is.

Giovanni: Tonight, we’re reading Der kleine Häwelmann, by Theodor Storm. It’s about a little boy who wasn’t sleepy either…

Giovanni: Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Häwelmann. At night he slept in a little bed on wheels, and in the afternoons too, whenever he was tired. But when he wasn’t tired, his mother had to wheel him around the room in it. And he could never get enough of that.

One night, little Häwelmann was lying in his wheeled bed and couldn’t fall asleep. His mother had been asleep for a long time in her own big bed beside him. Her bed had four very stiff legs and no wheels at all, because it was a four-poster bed.

“Mother!” called little Häwelmann. “I want a ride!”

In her sleep, his mother reached an arm out of bed and rolled the little bed back and forth, back and forth.

Whenever her arm began to grow tired, Häwelmann called, “More! More!” And the rolling began all over again.

At last, his mother fell completely asleep. However much Häwelmann shouted, she couldn’t hear him anymore.

That was that.

Before long, the Moon looked in through the windowpanes—the good old Moon. What he saw was so comical that he first drew his fur sleeve across his face to wipe his eyes. Never in all his life had the old Moon seen anything like it.

There lay Häwelmann, with his eyes open in his little bed, holding one leg up like a mast. He had taken off his little nightshirt and hung it from his little toe like a sail. Then he took a corner of the shirt in each hand, puffed out his cheeks, and began to blow.

Slowly, softly, softly the little bed began to roll.

Across the floor…

Up the wall…

Upside down along the ceiling…

And down the other wall again.

“More! More!” shouted Häwelmann when he reached the floor.

He puffed out his cheeks again, and off he went—topsy-turvy.

It was very lucky for Häwelmann that it happened to be nighttime, and the Earth was standing on its head. Otherwise, he could so easily have broken his neck.

After he had made the journey three times, the Moon suddenly looked him in the face.

“Little boy,” he said, “haven’t you had enough?”

“No!” shouted Häwelmann. “More! More! Open the door for me! I want to ride through the town. All the people shall see me riding!”

“I can’t do that,” said the good Moon.

But the good Moon let a long moonbeam fall through the keyhole. And along that beam, little Häwelmann rode out of the house.

Giacomo: Through the keyhole?

Giovanni: Yes. Through the keyhole, Giacomo.

Giovanni: It was really very lucky that he was still such a little boy. Otherwise, he could so easily have hurt himself in that narrow keyhole.

The streets were quiet and deserted. The tall houses stood in the bright moonlight, staring rather stupidly out at the town through their black windows. But there were no people to be seen.

Häwelmann’s little bed rattled quite loudly over the paving stones, and the good Moon always went beside him, lighting the way.

They rode along one street and down another.

But there were no people to be seen.

When they passed the church, the great golden rooster on the bell tower suddenly crowed.

They stopped.

“What are you doing up there?” little Häwelmann called up.

“I’m crowing for the first time!” the golden rooster called down.

“Where are all the people?” little Häwelmann called up.

“They’re asleep!” the golden rooster called down. “When I’ve crowed for the third time, the first person will wake up.”

“That takes too long,” said Häwelmann. “I want to ride into the forest. All the animals shall see me riding!”

“Little boy, haven’t you had enough?” the good old moon said.

“No!” shouted Häwelmann. “More! More! Shine, old Moon, shine!”

He puffed out his cheeks, and the good old Moon shone. They rode out through the town gate, across the fields, and into the dark forest.

The good Moon had a great deal of trouble getting between all those trees. Sometimes he fell quite a way behind, but he always caught up with Häwelmann again.

The forest was quiet and lonely. There were no animals to be seen—not the deer, not the hares, not even the little mice.

On they rode, through fir woods and beech woods, uphill and downhill.

The good Moon always kept alongside, shining into every bush.

But there were no animals to be seen.

Only a little cat sat high in an oak tree, its eyes glittering.

They stopped.

“That’s little Hinze,” said Häwelmann. “I know him well. He wants to imitate the stars.”

When they rode on, the little cat leaped along with them, from tree to tree.

“What are you doing up there?” little Häwelmann called up.

“I’m illuminating!” the little cat called down.

Tilly: What’s illuminating?

Giovanni: Lighting things up. With those bright little eyes, Tilly. Where was I? Ah, here.

Giovanni: “Where are all the other animals?” Häwelmann called up to him.

“They’re asleep!” the little cat called down, and leaped into the next tree. “When I close my last eye, the first mole will wake up.”

“That takes too long,” said Häwelmann. “I want to ride into the sky. All the stars shall see me riding!”

“Little boy,” said the good old Moon, “haven’t you had enough?”

“No!” shouted Häwelmann. “More! More! Shine, old Moon, shine!”

He puffed out his cheeks, and the good old Moon shone. They rode out of the forest, across the heath, all the way to the end of the world…

And straight into the sky.

It was merry up there.

All the stars were awake. Their eyes were open, and they sparkled so brightly that the whole sky glittered.

“Make way!” shouted Häwelmann.

He rode right into the shining crowd. The stars were so frightened that they fell out of the sky to the right and to the left.

“Little boy,” said the good old Moon, “haven’t you had enough?”

“No!” shouted Häwelmann. “More! More!”

And before you could blink, he rode straight across the good old Moon’s nose, so that the Moon’s face turned quite dark brown.

“Fie!” said the Moon, and sneezed three times.

“Everything in moderation!”

Then he put out his lantern.

And all the stars closed their eyes.

Suddenly, the whole sky was so dark that you could actually take hold of the darkness with your hands.

“Shine, old Moon, shine!” shouted little Häwelmann.

But the Moon was nowhere to be seen.

Neither were the stars.

They had all already gone to bed.

Häwelmann grew very frightened, all alone in the sky.

He took the corners of his nightshirt in his hands and puffed out his cheeks. But he didn’t know which way to go.

He rode this way and that, back and forth, crisscrossing the darkness.

And nobody saw him riding.

Not the people.

Not the animals.

Not even the dear stars.

At last, far below him, right at the edge of the sky, a round red face looked up at him.

Häwelmann thought the Moon had risen again.

“Shine, old Moon, shine!” he called.

He puffed out his cheeks and rode across the whole sky, straight toward it.

But it was the Sun, just rising out of the sea.

“Little boy!” she called, looking him in the face with her glowing eyes. “What are you doing here in my sky?”

And one, two, three! She took little Häwelmann and threw him right into the middle of the great water.

There he could learn to swim.

And then?

Well… and then?

Don’t you remember?

If you and I hadn’t come along and taken little Häwelmann into our boat, he could so easily have drowned.

And that is the end of the story, kids.

Tilly: Thank you. That was a wonderful story. Good night, Giovanni.

Giacomo: Good night everyone.

Giovanni: Good night, Tilly. Good night, Giacomo. Bis morgen früh.

Giovanni: This was tonight's story, lovely listeners. It's time to close your eyes, too.

Sleep softly till the morning light.

Sweet dreams, my friends. Good night.

Until next time, or as the Germans say: Bis zum nächsten Mal.