The Most Beautiful Quotes About Autumn
- Autumn is often referred to as the king of seasons, embodying elements of spring’s freshness, summer’s heat, and winter’s soothing chill.
- This season is characterized by its many advantages, as the cool breezes paint the streets in golden hues. Even though this color signifies the wilting of leaves, it also symbolizes renewal – for after every death, life inevitably follows, as per divine creation.
- Autumn represents a time of migration; however, every fall is followed by the promise of spring.
- In this season, the peacock sheds its feathers, much like the trees release their leaves.
- Autumn mirrors the mid-life stage in humans, as it is marked by falling leaves and wilting flowers, reminiscent of the passage of time and aging.
- The apparent death that blankets the world in autumn resembles the cracking edges of a wound before it heals, the wilting of buds before fruits ripen, and the shifting of clouds preceding a stormy day.
- Autumn symbolizes saving, frugality, and preparedness.
- This season embodies balance, seamlessly combining the intensity of heat with the chill of cold.
- Some claim that autumn is the spring of the soul, much like spring rejuvenates the eyes.
Reflections on Autumn and Melancholy
- Autumn is often regarded as the most somber season of the year, representing old age and farewells.
- This season derives its nature from a dry, cold essence, instilling feelings of sadness and gloom.
- Among all seasons, autumn has the unique ability to envelop the self and spirit in a myriad of emotions simultaneously; it evokes both joy and sorrow, despair and hope for the upcoming spring.
- Throughout history, autumn has been perceived as a cycle of death and rebirth; the quietude of the world suggests the imminent arrival of new creations on earth.
Beautiful Descriptions of Autumn
- Autumn is said to be the most harmonious season of the year, balancing between two equinoxes.
- This season brings an end to the scorching heat, heralds the returning clouds, and is marked by the harvesting of grapes and a variety of foods; it is a time when the rivers flow crystal clear, resembling the mornings’ serenity.
- During autumn, the earth reveals its harvest, showcasing its beauty; the sky showcases the abundance of rain, and resources become pure and refined.
- The days of autumn are golden; among its harvest, some fruits are yet to come, and its leaves transition in color, resembling lamps adorned with chains.
- In autumn, the air cools, time shifts, fruits ripen, the earth transforms, leaves turn yellow, and animals become lean. Creeping pests and insects retreat, while birds seek warmer nests, creating an ambiance reminiscent of a wise elder.
Poetic Verses About Autumn
- The poet Badr Shakir al-Sayyab expresses in his poem “In the Sad Nights of Autumn”:
In the sad nights of autumn
When nostalgia overwhelms me
Like heavy fog
In the corners of the road
In the long, winding path
When I am alone with this deep silence
Memories ignite
With your pale smiles
All the lights of that distant path
Where we once met
In the stillness of the evening
Will love return anew?
Promise me when it does… Oh, the agony
Promise me as remnants of winds
Surround the leaves, lost in confusion and depression
Then they fall near the dreary lamp
We have ended… do you not remember?
We have ended… and morning has arrived
Spilling light over the slackened lips
And the dissolving long embrace
Where are the pains of the departing day?
Where, say, I will never forget you, alas?
In the nights of autumn
When I listen, and hear nothing but rustling
Like the melancholic cry of a prisoner
Afraid of waking the sleepers
He retreats into darkness
Watching sleeping silhouettes
Hidden behind the remnants of clouds
Yet memories overpower him
The distant, distant song
In the harvest nights
Facing the impoverished cries
Then the ringing of iron rises
Stealing sleep from the wretched!
In the nights of autumn
When I listen, even the rustling has died
And the air –
Notes of the evenings, the distance
In a despair that evokes tears
Shahrazad
In my imagination, nostalgia overwhelms me
Where were we?! Do you not remember
Where were we?! Do you not recall the evening?
In the long nights of autumn
Oh, if you only knew
How sorrow and boredom overwhelm me!
In my veins, the darkness of prison graves
In my veins, death turns
To the soil that was my mother: Tomorrow
Will come, so do not worry with wailing
The realm of death, where silence reigns!
I will go as I came, alas
I will go while still under the sky
Despots absorb my blood
I will go while the eyes of tyrants
Extract their shine
From the sparks of every burning home
And the gleaming blades
In the deserts and the gazes of the hungry
I will go, and alas for the suffering!
You will live after me, and you will enjoy
Love anew
I will forget, and you will forget, except for the echo
Of a melody
On the lips of victims – or death.
- Poet Yasser Al-Atrash conveys in his poem “After Autumn with Two Clouds”:
No one celebrated the birth of the stranger
Half of me belongs to the sun
And the sun is estrangement..
My mother is crucified on the flesh of tears
She says: do not be sad,
The rain will do you justice
No one celebrated the fruit of the poor..
And you descended
From on high to the platform named after you
Returning on a day of birth
And the lady will forget..
The same who makes you weep
Will cause you to smile
Do not blame my clay
I hid away from all confessions
A shout
For your absence in summer
So be sad
Their voices are a hollow echo
But I stole you from autumn..
Oh you born between water and fire
In protest
Half of your heart is a refuge
The other half is the princess’s window
Shut against the ashes of life
And it extinguished
Returning through the crowd..
Is it time for you to lean into my voice
To kindle a sorrow
After autumn with two clouds
And weep as we wish
And rejoice in our tears..
Is it time to lower into your eyes
The cactus of truth
Whoever passes to you
From the lavender cities
Oh you, who is inhabited by rain
One day
The doves will consume you..
So feel sadness
For you will not be a fighter
And they will hang on the light of your hands
The gallows of peace
And be sad
For your forgotten birth
Your voice touches only my blood
And the night plucks – as usual – the steps
And the heart
Becomes the window of the beloved, a village
Covered in dust, neighing her desire and sleeps..