This poem was written by Otto Frank in German, but Margot translated it into Dutch. After that, I don't know who translated it into English. Sorry

As youngest among us, but small no more,
Your life can be trying, for we have the chore
Of becoming your teachers, a terrible bore.
'We've got experience! Take it from me! '
'We've done this all before, you see.'
We know the ropes, we know the same.
Since time immemorial, always the same.
One's own shortcomings are nothing but fluff,
But everyone else 's are heavier stuff.
Fault-finding comes easy when this is our plight,
But it's hard for your parents, try as they might,
To treat you with fairness, and kindness as well;
Nit-picking's a habit that's hard to dispel
When you're living with old folks, all you can do
Is put up with their nagging-its hard but its true
The pill may be bitter, but down it must go,
For its meant to keep the peace, you know.
The many months here have not been in vain,
Since wasting time goes against your grain.
You read and study nearly all the day,
Determined to chase the boredom away.
The more difficult question, much harder to bear,
Is "What on earth do I have to wear ?
I've got no more knickers, my clothes are too tight,
My vest in a loincloth, I'm really a sight!
To put on my shoes I must off my toes.
Oh Dear, I'm plagued with so many woes!"


This poem was given to Anne on her birthday.