Market. I have to buy flowers for my beloved. Ocean of flowers, not walking, but swimming. Floating among the flowers, inhaling the fragrance. Bright shouting carnations. The tomato roses. Sighing peonies, and frivolous daisies. - No, it's all rubbish. I swim on. A short old man with a gray in his beard, not at all old yet, and his eyes are so mischievous and kind, easily sells dandelions.
Is it possible to sell such flowers, - they have no price? - He's got a pail full of yellow dandelions for kids, and another pail full of silver ones. No way! Even took my breath away. That's what I need!
I like both of these dandelions. The yellow ones, they are so beautiful, like the sun, amazing, like little children, and when they grow up, become older, their beauty turns into tenderness, they become silver and especially delicate. After all, if you breathe on them very softly, they will shiver and jingle, and if you blow even harder, they will shudder, fly up, and joyfully fly all over the world, dancing and twirling, dancing and twirling.
I approach the old man cautiously and ask in a whisper, so as not to spook my luck, in case he won't sell, and my excitement makes me stammer a little.
- Are you for sale?
- I am. What kind do you want?
- Silver. Silver for me.
- Got any money? - The old man is also worried and looks at me incredulously.
- Yes, I have, I got my salary today.
I hastily take out a handful of coins. The old man carefully takes the flowers out of the child's bucket, wraps the stalks of silver dandelions in a scrap of old newspaper, and holds out a bouquet of the world's most delicate and exquisite flowers.
- Thank you," I say to the old man.
And I swim again. I swim out into the street. Passersby politely cross to the other side, so as not to accidentally breathe on my flowers, they are so delicate.
Proud and important I wait for my bus. Carefully I hold a bunch of flowers. My love, how happy she will be! People around me look at me suspiciously, whisper and point in my direction. I must look very happy. The bus came up, as crowded as always. It was stuffy and crowded in the bus, everyone was pushing. A big man, a head taller than me, breathes so bad that the dandelions shudder fearfully, the color is scary.
- Careful man, do not scare my flowers.
- Wha-o-o? - The big guy looked at me like I was some kind of insect.
- Silver dandelions, they are so tender, do not breathe on them so, please.
There is silence. Everyone is looking at me and the big man, looking at me strangely. I wonder if the Tall Man will apologize or not. At first the Tall Man staggered, looked around, saw approving glances, and then his chest powerfully straightened, filled with air to capacity, then a powerful tornado fell on my flowers, and dandelions - they shuddered, cried silently in pain, twitched their heads in a death spasm, and a flock of little parachutists soared up and scattered around the bus. Everyone began to laugh. The big guy smiled defiantly and felt like a winner. Everyone laughed, even the kids. The kids, they laughed, too.
God, why were they laughing? Why did they do that? What about my beloved, what am I going to tell her? Why did they ruin such beauty? Why are they laughing? Why don't they like silver dandelions? Let me out, let me out. I don't want to go with you. You're all crazy. You don't understand anything. I will live separately from you. I will have my own house, and dandelions will grow in my garden.
Translated with DeepL