photo taken by @wakeupkitty
The last autumn
He squats on a bench so that the poisonous autumn rain doesn't soak his bottom.
This will be the last autumn, and even if it were not repeated on the radio, constantly covered on the internet, and generally inserted into every conversation - he would still know, he would feel it. It is in the air, in the breath of nature.
This will be the last autumn, winter will follow ... winter forever.
There are few people left on the streets, and even they don't let themselves meet anymore as a rule. Some are too scared, others are too numb, some are preparing for the first-last winter, gathering food and swearing out loud, others ... they are already gone.
He does not condemn them either, nor would it be fair to say that they have committed suicide. The apocalypse is - to put it mildly - a strong trigger for that something that everyone carries inside. A whisper from the darkness with which we are born.
Him?
He has no desire to rot like autumn leaves, even the colours are not enough to convince him. The last dance of the dead leaves, which he is witnessing now, may be spectacular, but still nothing. Does he want to wish? To live? ... whatever it is.
It is estimated that about half will live to see December and with it the end of autumn. Children and the elderly will be the first impacted. At the first severe windstorm, they will fall off the tree of humanity - they are already falling off. Their stalks are either not strong enough yet or have already wilted in a previous season.
That's the way it is - it's not fair, but it's right, logical, natural.
But those who will remain and survive until winter ...
Hunger.
Cold.
Disease.
And the other horsemen of the apocalypse.
For the few who will get out - because man is man - let someone save the autumn books, the autumn leaves ...
He jumps off the bench, puts on waterproof gloves and collects some beautiful specimens. If this really is the last autumn - it is his duty, no, it is human duty - to collect the last herbarium.
Nothing less, nothing more.
Zadnja jesen (Slovenian original - translation is of course not 100 %)
Čepi na klopi, da mu strupeni jesenski dež slučajno ne zmoči zadnjice.
To bo zadnja jesen in čeravno tega ne bi ponavljali na radiu, nenehoma informirali na spletu ter nasploh vstavili v vsak pogovor - bi vseeno vedel, čutil. V zraku je, v sapi narave.
To bo zadnja jesen, sledila bo zima ... zima zavedno.
Malo ljudi je še ostalo na ulicah in še ti se praviloma več ne pustijo srečati. Nekatere je preveč strah, drugi so preveč otožni, tretji se pripravljajo na prvo-zadnjo zimo, zbirajo ozimnico in klejejo na glas, četrti ... ti so že odšli.
Tudi teh ne obsoja, niti reči, da so storili samomor, ne bi bilo pošteno. Apokalipsa je pač - milo rečeno - močan povod za tisto nekaj, kar v sebi nosi vsak. Šepet iz teme, s katerim se rodimo.
On?
Nima želje trohneti kot jesensko listje, tudi barve niso dovolj, da ga prepričajo. Zadnji ples mrtvega listja, ki mu je zdaj priča, je lahko še tako spektakularen, a vseeno nič. Želi si želeti - živeti? ... karkoli že.
Ocenjujejo, da bo december in z njim konec jeseni dočakali približno polovica. Najprej bodo na udaru otroci in ostareli. Ob prvem resnejšem viharju bodo odpadli z drevesa človeštva - že odpadajo. Njihovi peclji so bodisi še premalo močni ali pa so že oveli v kaki izmed prejšnjih sezon.
Tako pač je - ni pošteno, a je prav, logično, naravno.
Kdor pa bo ostal in preživel do zime ...
Lakota.
Mraz.
Bolezen.
In ostali jezdeci apokalipse.
Za tisto peščico, ki se bo izvlekla - kajti človek je človek - naj nekdo shrani knjige o jeseni, jesensko listje ...
Skoči s klopi, nadene vodoodporne rokavice in zbere nekaj krasnih primerkov. Če je to res zadnja jesen - je njegova dolžnost, ne, dolžnost človeka - zbrati zadnji herbarij. Nič manj, nič več.
The translation is great, no worries.
I love what you wrote and I am happy someone thought about saving some leaves, proof of different times.
🍀💕
Thank you😊
Some subtle things are always lost in translation, but I`m glad general thought is still shining through. 🍀
If rain hurts it is poisoned. Feels as if the end is near and you described it very well.
Thanks for sharing this story with the community.
Thank you, its my pleasure to share ;)
As tragic as this story looks, I'm feeling safe here in Africa because there no winter here. But, I pray all the affected survives.
Seems like that's the end of the world? Last autumn huh? And the effect is gonna be a disastrous one