It’s What Happens, Sometimes, in October

by Angel Gonzalez

When nothing occurs,
and summer is gone,
and leaves start to fall off the trees,
and the cold rusts the edges of rivers,
and slows down the flow of waters;

when the sky seems a violent sea,
and birds swap landscapes,
and words sound more and more distant,
like whispers strewn by the wind;

then,
as you know,
it’s what happens:

those leaves, birds, clouds,
strewn words and rivers,
fill us with sudden restlessness
and despair.

Don’t seek the cause in your hearts.
It is merely what I said:
what happens.

Translated by Gonzalo Melchor