Saturday, November 02, 2013

Touching The Autumn

One upon a time, in the last year of Madrasah Ibtidaiyah (MI), I found a small book titled “Taman Sang Nabi” (The Garden of The Prophet), a lyrical prose by Kahlil Gibran, a magnificent poet from Lebanon. It belonged to my older brothers—either Hermanto (alm.) or Muhli—in which they bought at Pondok Pesantren Annuqayah Nirmala. I forgot whose book belonged to because they were in the same hobby as books collector and also as bookworm and they entirely affected me in loving books. I must say thanks to them. I remembered well the book: black cover with pinked-orb picture just like an earth or maybe like a flower sheath. I don’t know exactly. 

That book embraced me with a lot of something strange and difficult to understand at that time. It depicted well a small piece of autumn with marvelous scenery of powerful words as Gibran always did with their outstanding works. I was wrapped with a romantic but abstract and imaginary background: Mushtofa, the prophet seeking the truth in miles-away distance. There, alongside the sojourning path of the protagonist Mushtofa, I recognized autumn with magical touches under Gibran’s hand who beautifully tucked a breath of it; how trees stood still; how leaves fell down into the earth; how winds jolted the leaves and nestled them on the ground; and how Mushtofa (or Gibran himself) felt during his pursuit of somethingness! Yes, I felt those to wonderfully imagine such kind of depiction of autumn, almost in all Gibran's works.

Then, the other masterpieces come into my desk: Orhan Pamuk, William Shakespeare, Robert Frost, William Blake, O Henry, Akutagawa, Najib Mahfouz and other writers like Rainer Maria Rilke and also songs praising the autumn. Of course I will never forget November Rain by Gun 'N Rose. I was impressed with this piece of poem below:

"Now cast your shadow on the sundials,
and loose the winds on the open fields." 

(by Rilke ~ Autoumn Day)

Today I feel it deeply here in Anatolia peninsula. I take off my shoes to directly feel how wind touches my foot and unites it into the ground. Yes I admit this all as very romantic season as people always impress of autumn time. But I feel more than just a romantic time embodied by the season. It’s melancholy. Yes romanticism of melancholy!