I wish I was a flower in a newborn spring. Would you
like me to be a daisy with pearl lips? Would you like me to be a poppy with
ruby cheeks? I would rather be a violet in deep purple dreams. My darling, I
probably know one thing. My white tablets wouldn't turn into mint. The Earth
and the sun being afar can flirt. Do they know what a violet may hint? It may
kiss its purple dreams in a newborn spring. Am I a violet growing in a street?
All these hours are travellers veiled by mist. Don't worry, my darling! We
still have enough time to sing.
We are together as our fairy tale is magic. We
wander with seasons in life's traffic. We are small wheels spinning and
running. Life tells the same tale with lots of changes. How long has it told
the same fairy tale to its traffic? How long have we lived with something
mystic? All dreams come and go blinking. They may pat and kiss something. Their
fingers pick up nothing. They walk to meet us smiling. Wisdom talks to this
traffic. Madness drives through it laughing. We are small wheels in life's
traffic. All dreams have mystic bodies. Rainbows remind of bridges. Are they
made from vivid fabric? Our dreams step on their stripes slipping. We run
through life's traffic talking. Seasons paint their canvases while sailing.
DON'T BE AMAZED!
Do you see a little bird flown to you in a windy
day? It's a canary left its bench. It flew miles patting the sky's face. Are
you amazed at its soft wings painted by a nude haze? No, its tiny beak hasn't
dropped the songs anywhere. Do you listen to them in a dripping rain? The sun's
mirror can be a sea or a lake. The bird doesn't have a mirror to look at its
craze. Don't be amazed! It covered miles but it didn't drop its lyre on the
long way. Don't be amazed! The bird didn't drop a single song saved for you in