[Chile] Hey? Prado's article belongs to narrative prose.
The old gardener cultivated many excellent varieties of roses. He sends pollen from one flower to another like a bee and pollinates different kinds of roses artificially. In this way, he cultivated many new varieties. These new varieties have become his beloved treasures, and they have also aroused the envy of those who refuse to work as hard as bees.
He has never picked a flower to give away. Because of this, he has a selfish and annoying reputation.
A beautiful lady visited him. The lady left empty-handed, too. She didn't take a flower with her, but she kept repeating what the gardener told her. From then on, people regarded him as a madman except that he was selfish and annoying, and no one paid any attention to him.
"Madam, you are so beautiful!" The gardener said to the beautiful lady, "I am very happy to dedicate all the flowers in my garden to you!" " However, although I am so old, I still don't know how to pick a rose to become a complete and living rose. Are you laughing at me? Oh! Don't laugh at me, I ask you not to laugh at me. "
The old gardener took the beautiful lady to the rose garden, where a beautiful rose was blooming. This bright red flower seems to be a bright red heart abandoned in thistle.
"Look, madam," said the gardener, stroking the flowers with his skilled calloused hands.
"I have been observing the whole process of rose flowering. Those red petals grow from the calyx, as if they were red flames from a small bonfire. Can you take the flame out of the bonfire and keep it burning?
"The calyx is very tender, slowly growing from the long stem, and the flowers fall on the branches. No one can tell them exactly-when is a calyx and when is a flower? I also observed that when the roots of the rose spread downward, the branches turned white slowly, and its roots were closely combined with the soil because of the water oozing from the ground.
"As a result, I don't even know where to count a rose. How can I pick it and give it to others? If you take it off and give it to others, then, madam, do you know that the life of a broken thing is very short?
"Every year 10, the budding rose buds bloom. I wonder where the roses began to bloom. I never dared to say, "My rose tree is in bloom." And I always cheer like this:' the earth is blooming, great!'
"When I was young, I was rich, strong, beautiful, kind and honest. There were four women who loved me.
"The first woman loves my money. In that woman's hands, my property was quickly squandered.
"The second woman loves my strong body. She wants me to fight with her enemies and defeat them. But soon, my energy dried up with her love
"The third woman likes my handsome appearance. She is very attentive to me. My handsome appearance disappeared with my youth, and that woman's love for me ended.
"The fourth woman loves me and is honest and kind. She used me for her own benefit, and finally I saw her hypocrisy and abandoned her.
"At that time, madam, I was like four roses on a rose tree, and four women picked one each. However, if a rose tree can welcome 100 spring, then a rose can only have one spring. My poor rose withered forever because of this.
"Since then, no one has ever taken a flower in my garden. I said to all the people who came to my garden,' When will you stop being keen on divided and incomplete things? If you can really put everything
The details of the matter are clearly divided. If you can really figure out when a rose grows to be a calyx and when it starts to be a flower, then you can pick it where the rose is in full bloom! "