When the bud comes to life in early spring
it really looks like some big bullet to me
drenched in all dimensions and numbers,
not even Fibonacci can understand those petals
when I count them, I look at an even number
when it’s cold outside I first see a bud
as it continues to develop
it feels like it’s a shaped bullet
and its stalk looks
like some Winchester rifle butt
when everything around me begins to come to life
I see the symbol of the bullet and the crucifix
because people give flowers to sickles in vain
just to get some ethereal scents
which continues to trouble in my soul
because I know that the bud shapes out like a big bullet
that the sheath of grain awakens from metamorphosis
I look forward to each day more than ever
yes, that big bullet will come to life in vain
I know that my existence may be small
but the flowers are the most beautiful in the world
beautiful colours, shapes and dimensions
where every moment of life gives me a new start
with music they say that flowers will bloom again
so there is nothing unusual in all this
except that the moments for me are to be happy
because each flower is shaped uniquely
to give joy and happiness in awakening
I never asked for much of life
except that everyone respects that the bullet is as light as a feather
but gentle enough to destroy everything around him in anger
believe everything you hear and see
because the masterpiece is a great miracle
let the bullet stop all obstacles!
DoubleSpeak 