LatinosUSA

Father of Autumn sets forth from the flowers
he passes through all things and the darkness between them
deepening himself in the light, with plenteous flames
gathered between his brows
riding a bundle of rice stalks
father of Autumn glides like sunlight over the water’s edge
he goes to the heights, a great golden axe glowing brightly behind him

Our firewood door is always creaking without end
yearning for the mountains and forests that turned white overnight
father of Autumn, please split dry firewood for us to get through the winter
let sunlight and dust tremble and chirp together

We watch his powerful movements
the great axe glimmers darkly
thus the warm stove fire illuminates us
in the faint moonlight, our father’s arms rise and fall

At midnight, Father slips in the shadows
snow falls on the axe blade, blurring his image
snow falls so thick one can barely open their eyes
lonelier beasts huddle close

Thus our father abandons the axe and departs
like a flower with white head, a star
he no longer concerns himself with us; he goes to fulfill himself
at the edge of the moon, ladling water with the gods

Bloodthirsty butterflies cluster on the axe blade
lingering three days without leaving
father of Autumn, how dark the earth is, where will the earth go
like one seeking truth, Father of Autumn
leaps onto the rushing current and departs

You will return from time to time. Father of Autumn
return through our bodies, real, silent
light the stove for us, then depart
taking the white butterflies of a night’s heavy snow

When we grow up, standing in the dark,
the axe’s light heavy in our hands
father of Autumn will not return
until we in turn slip in the golden glow of the great axe
father of Autumn will carry us away on the rushing current