So many songs, so much is said Of skilful hands and daily bread, Of food that gives us strength to start And warms the body and the heart. But here’s a simpler lesson: one Whole universe can be a bun. The dough, the flavours and the heat— And here’s the place where all things meet. A universe inside a bun— A hundred flavours wrapped in one. No joke—beneath that coat of dough, A world the outside doesn’t show. Hot, through the house, its scents unfold; It stays itself when it turns cold. Today it’s soft and freshly made; Tomorrow, it turns dry and stale. Potato, cheese and cabbage, too— Each brings a different taste to you. Jam, cherries, mushrooms, poppy seeds— Just take whichever one you please. A universe inside a bun— A hundred flavours wrapped in one. No joke—beneath that coat of dough, A world the outside doesn’t show. Outside, the same old coat of dough; Inside, a world that doesn’t show. Just break it open, pull aside The dough—the best is tucked inside. Time passes, and the bun turns cold; Its little world grows hard and old. But warm it up, watch it revive; That universe is still alive. A universe inside a bun— A hundred flavours wrapped in one. No joke—beneath that coat of dough, A world the outside doesn’t show. But every universe must end. We eat it till there’s nothing left. Crumbs on the table—all you see. The whole wide cosmos lives in me. No need to search the stars for truth. Your universe is yours to hold. While sages ponder our existence, The meaning of your life grows cold.
