The forest was large and thickly overgrown with all kinds of leaf-bearing trees. This November was unusually warm, and the ground was carpeted with fallen leaves—yellow as saffron, red as wine, and gold. Their juices had dried, but they still exuded a pleasant aroma.
On the tip of a bare tree, two leaves remained on one twig: Ole and Trufa. They had survived all the rains and winds, believing their great love for each other was the reason. Ole was bigger and older; Trufa was prettier and more delicate. During storms, Ole would encourage Trufa: "Hang on, Trufa! Hang on with all your might!"
One cold night, Trufa complained, "My time has come, Ole, but you hang on!"
"What for?" Ole replied. "Without you, my life is senseless. If you fall, I'll fall with you."
"No, Ole! So long as a leaf can stay up, it mustn't let go."
"It all depends if you stay with me," Ole said. "By day I admire your beauty. At night I sense your fragrance. Be the only leaf on a tree? No, never!"
"Ole, your words are sweet, but they're not true," Trufa said. "I'm no longer pretty. I'm wrinkled and shriveled. Only my love for you remains."
"Isn't that enough?" Ole said. "Love is the highest power. So long as we love each other, no wind or storm can destroy us. I never loved you as much as I do now."
"Why, Ole? I'm all yellow."
"Who says green is pretty and yellow is not? All colors are equally handsome."
As Ole spoke these words, a wind tore him loose from the twig. Trufa trembled and called out, "Ole! Come back!" But he vanished, blending with the leaves on the ground, leaving Trufa alone.
Trufa endured her grief by day, but when night fell with a piercing rain, she sank into despair. She blamed the mighty tree, which stood firm while leaves fell. To her, the tree was like a god that used leaves and then let them die. She pleaded for Ole's return, but the tree paid no heed.
The night felt endless—dark and frosty. She spoke to Ole but received no answer. She begged the tree, "Since you've taken Ole, take me too." Still, no answer came.
Eventually, Trufa dozed into a strange languor. She awoke to find herself no longer on the tree; the wind had blown her down. All her fears vanished. This awakening brought a new awareness: she was not just a leaf at the wind's whim, but part of the universe. She understood the miracle of her molecules and atoms—the energy she held and the divine plan she was part of.
Next to her lay Ole. They greeted each other with a love greater than before—a love not of chance, but as mighty and eternal as the universe itself. What they had feared between April and November was not death, but redemption. A breeze lifted them, and they soared with the bliss of those who have joined eternity.