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My daughter once asked me:“ Mom, in our textbook it says that the sound of the falling leaves is a kind of rustle, but I have never heard it, have you?” I thought for a second and answered honestly:“No, I haven’t.” seeing her so disappointed.|
Has anyone once heard the sound of the falling leaves? I tried, but failed. It was only the noise of the stamping of the feet on those fallen leaves that I heard.
The basic sound of cities is different noises coming from automobiles, construction sites, electronical apparatus…These noises have brought with us nervousness, fidget as well as injury to the hearing. How are we able to hear that sound? We even lose the passion to listen.
There is a very beautiful essay titled ‘Golden Rosebush’ written by a Russian writer long time ago. In that essay he described his feeling when he heard the falling leaves:“The autumn night is all silent, surprisingly silent, not the least wind to be heard. I looked up at the tall maple tree and saw a leaf slowly falling, it shuddered for a second, taking a short pause in mid-air, and then wavered a slight rustle, making its way to my feet…This is the first time I have heard the sound of a falling leaf. It was so vague, like the susurrate of a young baby.”
I was so moved by this description. And yet for me, I’d compare the sound of the falling leaves to the whispers between lovers. It must be in a poor and lonely village that the boy and the girl sit side by side under a tall maple tree at a same silent autumn night. There is a clear sky where the stars are smiling. They could look into each other’s eyes for a long time, not a word to be said. Then there comes the sound of the falling maple leaves, the whispers of love…
Someday, I’ll try to listen… This year’s autumn is so long. The maple leaves are still red.
Please correct my mistakes.