The flowers hawker

The apé motor-insect

walks staggering

the peaceful three-wheeled

overloaded to the brim

of ornamental plants,

of prices and of colours.

The traffic slows down in astonishment at the sight

of a green coleopteron in bloom,

consumed, unstable clown.

On its convex back

young trees,

promising shoots,

dancing shrubs

bend the feeble stalks,

they wave their foliage synchronously

to the quivering pace of the engine.

I am like that

strange bug that carries

on the rump its offspring.

It shows them to the world

with ingenuous pride,

candid children, candid hope.

March 16, 2004