The One Word I Must Say

I want to say one word only,
Even if it provokes ten counter points.
Hearing all those counter points,
I shall want to say that one word.
Half of it I said to the blossom.
First it grew grave and then exuded joy.
Yes, the flowers know how to be happy.
But when the blossom turned into a garland,
And came chasing me, the other half of the word
Withered.
No one likes to hear deprecating words, even if true:
So, let me start with the succulent tale of the flower.
I did. But what went wrong?
My listener fumed and shouted:
‘A gun, get me a gun.’
Against whom is this anger? The flower or me?
I never knew.
‘Come’n, take one more swig, have your fill,
Here’s a full bottle for you’ – the man
Was gulping and chattering,
Pouring out words and more words
Because words are so cheap and so much in supply,
That no government pays any heed to them.
This wretch asked for rice, and the price went up in the ration shops.
Will he understand if I tell it to him now?
I want to say one word only.
Half of it I said to the blossom,
But I didn’t like its ways.
If you want,
I can say it to the gun.
I can go into its barrel, and then, pour forth
Humming a folk-tune.
I shall want to say that one word.

THE ONE WORD I MUST SAY