The Right to Happiness (Son of the Muses)

Durch Feld und Wald zu schweifen,

Mein Liedchen wegzupfeifen,

So geht’s von Ort zu Ort,

So geht’s von Ort zu Ort…

“What are you singing? Is that German?” a policeman barked at me. I only then realized that I had been singing, and not only singing but skipping as well.

“Well, yes, I’m happy, that makes me want to sing and skip along. Yes, that is German, it happens to be the happiest song I know.”

“Well, you don’t have the right to sing that. You must sing ‘the Happy Song’ instead.”

“But ‘the Happy Song’ doesn’t actually sound happy. How about I meet you halfway and sing ‘Zip-i-dee-do-dah’?”

“That is my point, and that is much less than halfway.”

“Well, I have a right to happiness, so I think I’ll go on skipping along singing ‘Der Musensohn’.”

Und nach dem Takte reget

Und nach dem Maß beweget

Sich alles an mir fort…

“You don’t have a right to happiness, you have a right to pursue happiness. Now, tell, why are you happy?”

“The Sun is shining, the world is beautiful, the birds twitter in the trees, nothing bad has happened – but really I’m happy because I’ve been touched by a muse.”

“You’ve been touched by a muse? That means nothing. Anyways, you’re not happy for any approved reason, such as work, school, or finances, so I am afraid you are going to have to see a shrink to see if your brain is defective. I mean, of course it is, but I’m not allowed to actually make that pronouncement. Now come with me.”

“Why should I?”

The policeman had already grabbed handcuffs off his belt but at that moment I found myself on the branch of a nearby tree, and my limbs fluttered at my side, and my feet were clasped around the branch below me; I opened my little beak and continued to pipe away:

Ich kann sie kaum erwarten,

Die erste Blum’ im Garten…

Bang! I lay on the ground, again a human, albeit surrounded by feathers. I had been shot, straight through the head, and the policeman went from a look of triumph to horror as he saw that I was again human. The policeman, who had expected to get away with the mere killing of a songbird, holstered his weapon quickly and fled, and I, after a jolt of pain, watched him run from far above my body, and then I saw that muse beckoning to me from far above even where I floated, and bolted up toward her.

Hey, aren’t you supposed to at least let me finish my song?

You think I planned all that? Anyways, you can still finish it now.

I have no reason to finish it now.

No reason’s as good as any, go on.

…Die erste Blüt’ am Baum...