this poem is dedicated to a friend of mine who got sick in schizophrenia 22 years ego and he is still fighting the disease. He loves to talk and he talks a lot. The listener can pick up very worthy stories and an explanation about his becoming schizophrenic among all so called rubbish he says.

His first fear was another awful experience of our wild world that merged with mother´s fear and was engraved on his little brain.

His first pain was another frightful experience of external world that felt as a hard kick on mom´s stomach.

His first worry was mom´s worry when she, at nights, in her loneliness cried like rain and sang for him cadle ballad and told hem her tales.

Mother´s tales were about hard day´s sorrow about sad day´s loneliness.

Mohter´s tales were stories about days in fear and pain, days when she had no one to talk to.

Mother´s tales were stories about a fight, fighting for staying alive and going on living.

The first memory was memories of a fight, memories of not giving up, memories of hope

The first memory was mother´s love.