Autumn Exhausts Me

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The sky covers the grass like a plastic sheet. The creek lies on the stones. Indifferent dust settles over the grass. The sheaves of wheat think their deep thoughts in the sluggish sunlight. I’ll reach the ridge where we rest. The broken reeds are stuck to the sunset. How Autumn exhausts me! The horse’s eyes will also turn dark yellow. It endured all and stood in the hot grass.

So many things cross my mind— the spring wind, the summer rain, the bat flower’s shadow. I know a heavy snow is coming to cover the wheat field. A raven skids into a rut beside me, leaving a signature.

When the time comes, we’ll have a small house. Silent, we’ll watch snowflakes, those frostbitten sheaves of wheat, fall like a thousand years. We’ll follow our breath to find our lips. Our hearts sit in the distant dark bushes like big berries. It’s like the beginning of a dream,

like the beginning of a dream. There will be no more waiting, and no one will be tired. Let me light a fire that will burn for generations.

Translator: J.D. Scrimgeour with Rosanna Warren