Autumn Scenery of Zhulingou

Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, I sink into the embrace of nature, reluctant to tear myself away. The golden-red autumn leaves outshine blooming spring flowers in all their colours, radiating a mature beauty shaped by years of vicissitudes. I am lost in this dreamlike autumn landscape, savouring the serene peace of the season.

Soft sunlight streams over the entire mountain forest, while wispy clouds drift slowly across the vast high sky. The hillside is covered with red foliage like rosy clouds on the horizon, layered in gradual shades: green, yellow, crimson, bright red, deep red and purple-red weave into gorgeous gauze veils, painting the charming mountain in a riot of colours. Half gorgeous, half delicate, they carry the composed grace of mature women, folding up the tales of spring, hopes of summer, and legendary dreams of autumn.

As an old poem goes: People only praise spring for enchanting all living things, Yet they forget autumn frost creates even greater charm.

I stroll leisurely through the fairy-tale woods, breathing in the damp warmth of the earth, profoundly struck by the magnificence of nature.

Countless leaves glow like sunset clouds beneath the bright sun; A few trees stand dewy, sighing through bitter frosts. They flutter down with the wind like dancing butterflies; Who can fathom their boundless deep affection?

A gentle breeze rises, setting leaves rustling. Twirling slowly, glancing back, they linger unwillingly as they dance their final dance before drifting toward unknown distances. I pick up a red leaf and stroke its plain surface, as if touching the wrinkles on my beloved’s forehead. My heart fills with tender sorrow and fondness. This fiery autumn bloom burns with its last splendour, embodying all the ups and downs of a lifetime.

Thousands of red leaves flit and leap like butterflies between blue sky and green mountains. Do they chase the wind, or cling to the tree? Do they yearn for autumn, or whisper the sorrow of their fleeting dance? I fall into quiet melancholy.