Barbara I.
The Flower
"There is
something red." one visitor of the garden noticed.
"Some can't
even put their waste into the bin." snorted the second.
"It has no
adequate surrounding here." the botanist declared.
"It might
have to be replanted." considered the gardener. "If it will be cultured, ..."
"... it
could be possibly sold well." the merchant continued.
"As
defective as it is, it would not have the slightest chance on the market." the
marketing expert averted.
"They
aren't all the same. This one however misses leaves on one side of the stalk."
the teacher specified.
"Above all
it is distorted." the doctor diagnosed.
"What a
pity." the melancholic whispered compassionately.
"A messy
garden!" the critic complained. "It simply has to be eradicated as it is
disturbing the ensemble."
"Simply
ugly." the aesthete agreed.
"It has a
right to be protected and sustained." the representative of the minorities
decided vigorously.
"Actually
it is an entirely natural species!" the ecologist got excited.
"It is that
beautiful!" the enthusiast aspirated deeply moved.
"So what? -
We have hundreds of those on our barnyard." the farmer meant contemptuously.
The loather
said nothing. She jumped into the low brushes and kicked at it. But it
straightened up, inspired a musician to compose a melody, a painter to limn a
picture.
"Let me
immortalize its beauty by carving it out of stone!" the sculptor ardently
exclaimed.
The
searching waited until all noise vanished. Then she spoke to herself: "It keeps
a secret. I will fathom it." She sat down in front of it to meditate devotionally.
A woman
passed by, felt amazed. She drew near, curiously, carefully avoiding to
disturb and amused about the intense gaze on a hidden something on the
ground.
"Ah," she
said then, recognizing it, without moving her lips. "You are flower."
The bud
opened and smiled just the same way: "You are woman."
The
searching rose after breathing deeply and said to the woman: "The bud opened
because I was patient." After that she left to look for a new object for her
meditation.
But the
flower from now on lived its life by virtue of the woman's words. The woman
lived hers by those of the flower.
Correct my English, please!
BabuKommentar des Autoren
Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Barbara I..
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 21.03.2006.
Die Autorin
Leserkommentare (0)
Navigation
Vorheriger Titel Nächster Titel
Mehr aus der Kategorie "Leben - Aus dem Leben" (Kurzgeschichten in englischer Sprache)
Weitere Beiträge von Barbara I.
Hat Dir dieser Beitrag gefallen?
Dann schau Dir doch mal diese Vorschläge an:
A Long, Dry Season - William Vaudrain (Leben - Aus dem Leben)
Amour fourbe - Linda Lucia Ngatchou (Allgemein)