Once, there was a man who worked as a street seller. Every day, he walked up and down the busy city streets, selling things. As he walked, he saw rich people in fancy clothes, surrounded by guards. He saw strong warriors with faces that told stories of faraway places. Sometimes, he even smelled sweet perfume from unseen ladies in golden carriages that passed by.
Seeing all these things made him feel unhappy and jealous. Every evening, he argued with his wife, feeling upset and restless. His wife, tired of the arguments, would often cry.
One morning, after another argument, his wife looked in the mirror and saw little red lines in her eyes. She turned to her husband and said, "You need to buy a parasol!"
"Why should I buy a parasol?" he asked.
"Because the sun is making you angry," she replied. "The bright sunlight makes you restless, and that’s why we argue. It’s also why my eyes are red."
The man thought about his wife’s words as he walked that day. He noticed how hot the sun felt and how it seemed to rise from the ground in waves. "Maybe she's right," he thought. So, he went to the part of the city where people sold different things.
As he walked, he heard sellers shouting to get people to buy their goods. Then, he heard a loud voice say, "Buy a parasol! We have all kinds! Each one brings you the sky you love most!"
The man was curious and went to the parasol seller. The parasol seller was a serious-looking man, surrounded by many parasols. The man asked, "What do you mean by a parasol that gives the sky I love most?"
The parasol seller smiled and said, "These parasols may look the same, but each one has a special sky painted inside. Open one and see."
The man picked up a parasol and opened it. Inside, he saw a beautiful summer sky with soft white clouds. It felt like he was standing under a perfect sky.
"As long as you carry this parasol," said the parasol seller, "you will feel happy, as if the summer sky is always above you."
The man liked this, but he said, "I argue with my wife because of the sun's heat. I’m not sure a summer sky will help."
The parasol seller replied, "Then choose another sky. I have many."
He opened another parasol. This one showed a calm, gray winter sky. The parasol seller said, "This sky will make you feel peaceful, like being wrapped in a soft blanket."
But the man found this sky too sad. He opened another parasol and saw the sky at early morning, before the sun rose. He opened another and saw a sky with tall grass, like lying in a field looking up at the clouds. Each parasol showed a different sky, but none felt right to him. He even opened one with a full moon in the night sky, with the songs of lovers. Still, none of the parasols seemed right.
Finally, the parasol seller said, "I have one last parasol. Maybe this one will bring you peace."
The man opened the last parasol and saw a sky with wild geese flying in the shape of a V across a quiet autumn sky. Something about the geese made him feel a deep longing for faraway places. With no other choice, he took this parasol home.
With this new parasol, the man walked the streets. He saw the same rich people, the same warriors, and the same carriages. But instead of feeling unhappy or jealous, he looked at the geese painted inside the parasol. His eyes followed their flight, and he thought, “Not everything beautiful is something you can have.” The geese, flying freely toward distant places, made him realize that peace comes from letting go of envy. As he watched them, his heart felt lighter and calmer.
When he returned home that evening, he didn’t argue with his wife. Instead, he spoke kindly to her. From that day on, they lived more peacefully. Whenever either of them felt restless, they would open the parasol, look at the geese, and feel their worries float away. The parasol with the sky and geese helped them find joy in their own lives, far from the noise of the city.
Once, there was a man who worked as a street seller. Every day, he walked up and down the city, calling out to sell his goods. Now, he was a bit grumpy about it all. You see, as he trudged along, he’d see all these fancy folks dressed like they’d just walked off the cover of "Rich People Weekly," complete with guards who looked like they could bench-press a carriage. Then there were the warriors—big, bold, and looking like they had a hundred stories to tell, all of which ended with “And then I saved the kingdom.” Sometimes, he’d catch a whiff of flowery perfume from ladies in golden carriages. And there he was, sweating away with a bag full of, well, stuff that wasn’t exactly made of gold.
And every evening, he’d come home in a huff, grumbling and mumbling to his wife about how unfair it was that he wasn’t strolling around in fine silks with a fanfare. And his wife, bless her heart, would try to calm him down, but after a while, even she’d had enough.
One morning, after a night of extra-heavy grumbling, his wife turned to him with a look that could have melted a rock. “You need to buy a parasol.”
He blinked at her. “A parasol? Why? Am I about to start selling snacks at the beach?”
She sighed. “Because, my dear husband, the sun is cooking your brains like scrambled eggs. It’s turning you into Grumpy Gus every day, and I can’t keep listening to your moaning about rich people, carriages, and all that. Get a parasol, and maybe your brain will simmer down a bit.”
So off he went, slightly embarrassed but mostly curious. As he walked through the busy streets, he found the section where people were hawking every odd thing you could think of. And then he heard it: “Get your parasols here! Brighten your mood with the sky of your dreams! Buy a parasol and never be grumpy again!”
“Alright,” he thought, “if this works, I’ll be the world’s first cheerful street seller.” So he wandered over to the parasol-maker, who looked as serious as if he were guarding a secret treasure chest.
“Hello,” said the man, “I hear you’ve got parasols that can, um, fix my, er, sunny disposition?”
The parasol-maker raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. Yes, these parasols will bring you just the right sky you need. Each one has a different sky painted inside. Go on, try one.”
Curious, the man picked up a parasol and opened it. Inside, he saw a bright summer sky with fluffy white clouds, as if he’d stepped into a perfect day at the beach. “Oooh,” he said, “this one’s nice. Reminds me of the time I, uh, well, I never actually went to the beach, but it feels beachy.” He looked up at the parasol-maker. “Will this one make me happier?”
The parasol-maker nodded. “Carry this, and you’ll feel as light as a summer breeze.”
But the man wasn’t convinced. “I don’t think a summer sky is enough. I’m angry because I’m hot, not because I’m under a sad sky!”
“Fair enough,” said the parasol-maker. “Try another.”
So he opened another one. Inside was a misty winter sky, soft and gray, like a cozy blanket. The parasol-maker smiled. “This sky will make you feel calm and cool, like you’re wrapped in wool.”
The man looked at it, tilting his head. “Eh, it’s nice and all, but I don’t want to look like I’m sulking under a storm cloud all day. People might think I’m writing poetry or something.”
So he tried another. This one was a soft, pink sky from early morning, the kind that whispers, “Wake up, sleepyhead.” And then another, with tall green grass, like lying in a field watching puffy clouds go by. And another with a full moon, serenading the world.
He kept flipping through parasols like he was at a buffet of skies. Finally, with a bit of a sigh, the parasol-maker said, “Alright, last one. It’s an autumn evening sky with wild geese flying in a V.”
The man opened it, and there they were: geese, flying across the sky, their wings stretched out, looking like they knew exactly where they were going.
“Huh,” he said, staring at it. “They’re… well, they’re just geese, flying off somewhere. What’s so special about that?”
The parasol-maker shrugged. “They’re free, aren’t they? No guards, no fancy carriages. Just flying where they want.”
The man thought about it. Those geese didn’t care about gold, or carriages, or any of it. They had a whole sky to wander, and they seemed as happy as… well, a goose.
He took the parasol and went back to his route. As he walked, he’d see the same rich folks, the warriors, and the fancy carriages, but every time he felt that prickly envy, he’d open the parasol and look at the geese. And little by little, he felt something change inside him.
Instead of grumbling about things he didn’t have, he’d think about those geese and how some things aren’t meant to be owned. You just watch them, appreciate them, and let them go.
When he got home that evening, his wife was ready for another round of Grumpy Gus, but instead, he smiled at her. “Guess what? I bought the parasol.”
She looked surprised. “Oh, really? Does it work?”
He nodded. “Turns out, I just needed to stop chasing after golden carriages and learn to watch the geese fly by.”
And so, from that day on, whenever one of them felt cranky, they’d open the parasol, look at the geese, and remember that sometimes the best things in life are just meant to float on by.
A man roamed the city, selling his wares,
Saw riches and warriors without any cares.
Perfumes would drift past his sunburned face,
Yet he longed for their life, their freedom, their grace.
Each night, he grew restless, his heart full of strife,
And often would argue with his weary wife.
One morning, she sighed, with her eyes red and sore,
“You need a parasol; you’ll feel better, I’m sure.”
So he wandered the streets till a voice called out clear,
“Parasols! Skies of your dreams are right here!”
Intrigued, he drew near to the seller’s small stand,
With parasols painted by an artist’s hand.
The first held a summer sky, warm and bright,
But too full of sunshine, too strong in its light.
Another was gray, with a misty, calm feel,
But he found its sadness a little too real.
One showed a meadow, with clouds rolling high,
Another, the moon in a soft, velvet sky.
But none seemed to hold the peace he would seek,
No sky felt just right, not calming, not meek.
At last, the seller held one more up high,
With geese flying south through an autumn sky.
The man felt a longing, a pull in his chest,
Watching those geese on their faraway quest.
With his new parasol, he walked through the street,
And noticed his heart felt gentle and sweet.
Gone was his envy, his bitterness, too,
For the geese taught him peace in the sky’s endless blue.
That evening at home, he spoke soft and low,
Of skies and horizons, where dreams long to go.
When arguments stirred, they’d open it wide,
And watch the wild geese through the skies as they’d glide.
They learned that true peace isn’t found in things,
But in quiet moments and simpler wings.
The parasol’s gift was to help them see,
That joy lives close when hearts feel free.
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