It’s late fall!

Oriental people are often afraid to explain time. Not necessarily because they avoid oblivion, but because deep down in their minds, no one wants to stir that endless flow :

Autumn tree is not strange

< p class=”MsoNormal” style=”MARGIN:0 0 12pt”>Alone in the middle of winter.

Lam Tuyen, who is the guest of the old forest

A lot of money and a high salary will definitely be used.

( Tung – Nguyen Trai)

For that reason, the magical beauty of each season can only be felt through the impressions of sound and color. They are like an implicit convention about the wanderings of heaven and earth in the endless wandering of the human heart. The peach color fades when the lotus blooms, the pale lotus scent returns when the chrysanthemum blooms…

Which season, which scene, which scene, love always has its own signals to predict and invite. The mind can just be still and enjoy without being constrained by anything.

It has been more than a hundred years since the French and Western civilization provides a table of time values ​​over 24 rigid hour markers. From there, fast – slow coming – just missed – waiting… according to the numbers. Crops are also identified by precise paragraphs.

In that rational quantification, perhaps only Autumn is beyond all human estimate.

In this tropical region of Asia, if you receive a date from your lover: “Let’s meet when heaven and earth have just risen.” “autumn” is really like looking for “the shadow of a bird and a fish”.

When the leaves fall? It’s one step closer to autumn.

When you see colorful chrysanthemums? That is when the soul of autumn has  condensed in the noble atmosphere of a flower.

And if someone hears it and proposes a plan: When the lucky pig lets loose its energy under the clear sky, then all things will already be filled with autumn air.

When I was a child, at the end of summer, I often climbed to the top of a high hill to see the first signs of autumn. Under the blue sky and standing high above all things, I suddenly felt a strange feeling in my heart. Not just because the reproductive rhythm of summer in the hearts of plants and trees has stopped to shape their appearance before the withering period, but because people cannot help but be moved by the scene of autumn.

In the fall, when I hurriedly walked on the sidewalk to make time, I suddenly heard strange sounds under my heels. It’s like there’s an inner sound resounding in my soul that didn’t seem to exist yesterday. Looking up at the sidewalk, there were scattered yellow leaves falling. Under the tamarind tree, the old woman’s nuggets in the suburbs had replaced the sisters carrying lotus flowers a few days ago. It turns out it’s autumn.

Where high houses on all four sides obscure the sky, then automatically in my heart, a strange sound rang like a cold and clear bell. Perhaps that’s why autumn seems to stand outside the rotation of the dry qualitative clock, like a blurred broken line of the linear arrow of time. to make a separate realm.  

One ​​autumn I went to see off a friend. A friend is about to go to a far away land. On the steps of his house, the yellow leaves have not yet fallen because they still shine with the bright rays of the afternoon sun.

Remembering the times when we went back to his hometown to visit. on a motorbike on a small road between two banks of golden rice fields under the autumn sun with the color of wild honey. It seemed  to expand to infinity. The countryside wind was familiar but seemed to be blowing from a far away region. Hundreds of years or thousands of years later, that countryside wind will still be fragrant forever to blow the chest of firm golden rice flowers. His wooden house that afternoon was also rich in yellow, from the tiled roof covered with fallen leaves to the beautiful, peaceful and pure chrysanthemum beds.

– Autumn has begun in my life!

His words have a strange obsession. He said “early autumn” but there were late rays of sunlight in his eyes as if this afternoon we didn’t have time to return to the old wooden house to welcome autumn as planned.

Maybe some photographer’s theistic lens will capture those eyes, eyes that have been tinged with so many autumn colors throughout half of his wandering life. And that afternoon, when he saw me off at the gate of his spacious house on the street, he said:

– Honestly, I have never fulfilled a dream in my life. so small. That is, picking up the first autumn leaf that has just fallen down the steps and turning it over to see what’s hidden on the other side of the leaf lobe.

That day I felt strange and a little funny. Yet at night, I lay down and listened to the rain drops under the eaves and suddenly thought: Perhaps autumn is already hiding in my soul so that every time I welcome autumn it will be late.

Autumn is the strangest season. Season of embryos: also true. The season of reflections and gratitude for what gives life to our footsteps: there is no need to be redundant. But let’s just do our best with autumn first. Even though it’s late autumn now. /

Bui Viet Phuong