Publication History:
Translation:
Poetry:
I met a talking flower among the plants that had grown along the walls of a dilapidated building. It was perched at the top of the tallest plant, was glowing in pale yellow, and was the size of the fist of an infant. I was attracted to its splendor at first. But I was taken aback when it started talking. The flower did not seem to have noticed my bewilderment and continued speaking its mind by moving its petals. I had a suspicion at the beginning that some kind of a pre-recorded audio device might be hidden inside the flower. But later I realized that the flower had indeed been addressing me and its meaningless discourse at the beginning was only to invite me into its ambiance.
