The bud said to the flower,
I have the freshness of promise,
dawn in my colors, dew in my folds;
wind, sky, rain as food and play.
I dream of my beauty and fragrance
seeping into the universe
like the love of the wind, sky, rain and sun
like the love of the dew of dawn.

The wild flower blazed redly in the waxing sun,
upright, even as it wilted in the heat
witnessing the sun’s waxing and waning,
bearing the slashing whips of cold and rain,
bearing the wayward claps of wind and storm;
Its beauty and fragrance seeping into the universe unnoticed.
It replied: innocence is of no consequence;
Ripeness is.