Poems by Rieke Diah Pitaloka
source: Rieke Diah Pitaloka, A
Bathroom's Daydream: From Cengkeh to Utrecht (Jakarta: Gramedia Pustaka Utama, 2003)
Poems by T. Mulya Lubis
source: Poem Is Never Gone: The Bentara 2003's Poems (Jakarta: Penerbit Buku Kompas, 2003)
It might be good,
not to take notes of life
in the pages of diary book
One time,
if we read it again
sweet, makes us want to go back
bitter, makes our sorrow unforgettable
It might be good,
reflect on life
in a quiet bathroom
No need to be ashamed,
to remember, smile or cry
After that,
flush all of them
be ready to receive new food
that is better than yesterday
back to Indonesian version back to top
I open the window,
God greets me
"what do you want today?"
"God," I said, "liberate all the oppressed souls"
God smiles through fragrance of roses
My parrot sings happily enjoying the smell
I open the cage
extend my hand inside
touch her
She looks at me in doubt
I nod my head
She flies to the blue sky
Good morning God
Thank you
back to Indonesian version back to top
RRI, 06:00 WIB (Radio of the Republic of Indonesia, 06:00 West Indonesian Time)
: Attorney General Baharudin Lopa
They're over, the cheerful songs greeting the morning
I pour a glass of water, and drink it all
you're talking over there in the corner,
delivering the news
to us [listeners]
to [everybody]
An obituary pierces the morning dew
the sun jumps up suddenly
the bird stops singing
nature sorrows
silent
listen to the breeze whisper!
"soon, this dry soil will crack even more"
Another song is played again
I light a cigarette, blow the smoke
I see some people laugh, in the smoke
to joyfully welcome the bad news
Jakarta, 04072001
back to Indonesian version back to top
I'm sorry,
I cannot write a lot
the ink is empty
I scratched the sky last night
with your name....
Jakarta, 12082001
back to Indonesian version back to top
your eyes look at my eyes
your fingers touch my fingers
you smile, I’m flattered;
a simple beginning of love
because
Your love is no more than a morning
that always wakes (me) up
you open the net of my heart,
you pour the wine into my cup,
two centimeter from the bottom,
‘I don’t want you to be drunk’, you said
because
your love is no more than light that
accompanies the night
no enchant chain of words,
my words sink into your hugs
your words are foundered in my hands’ reach,
your heartbeats thunder my chest, explode but does not
scratch, ripples but does not become waves,
moves softly,
closes my eyes and your eyes in the beauty
that does not soar
because
Your love is no more than a swallow of water that
quench my thirst
you do not let my sorrow becomes cry,
you do not let my laugh makes me be forgetful,
you never put stocks in my leg so that
I can walk, run,
you never tie chains in my hands,
so that I can hold the world,
to materialize hope,
because
Your love is the blanket that calms me
you let me:
go and come in your poem
to choose the lyrics to write my story
because
Your love is the wind that guides me
you liberate me
into an independent soul
that’s why
I love you
indeed…
Cengkeh, 24012003
back to Indonesian version back to top
The Ballad of the Losers (The Defeated)
maybe we are just tired after centuries of debates
to see the tree and mountain fall down one by one
valley and river are full of stones
and the rain that is reluctant to come to the ground
maybe we are just tired after centuries of anger
to see the river and sea blackened because of spilled oil
the big fishing boat that continuously spread its net
forces away the fishermen's boats to the [shallow] coastal waters
maybe we are just tired, losing energy
to breath the smog from the cars that fills6
the air
the bad smell from scattered garbage
the clogged up ditch in all over the city
maybe we are just tired and almost giving up
to the law of the nature that has begun to change
maybe we are just tired because the rays from the fire starts to dim
blown by the strong wind without any barriers
maybe we are just tired because we are tired
all out of energy all out of blood [=bled dry]
8/8/2002
back to Indonesian version back to top
Give Indonesia Back to Me
Indonesia's future is two hundred million gaping mouths.
Indonesia's future is 15-watt light globes, some white and some black, lighting alternately.
Indonesia's future is a game of Ping-Pong, going on all day and all night with a ball shaped like a goose egg.
Indonesia's future is the island of Java sinking under its population of one hundred million people.
Give
Indonesia
back
to me.
Indonesia's future is one million people playing Ping-Pong night and day with a goose-egg under the 15-watt light globes.
Indonesia's future is Java sinking slowly because of the weight of its burden and then the geese swimming on top of it.
Indonesia's future is two hundred million gaping mouths, with 15-watt light globes in them, some white and some black, lightning alternately.
Indonesia's future is white geese swimming as they play Ping-Pong on top of the sinking island of Java and taking the hundred million 15-watt globes to the bottom of the sea.
Give
Indonesia
back
to me.
Indonesia's future is a game of Ping-Pong going on all day and all night with a ball shaped like a goose-egg.
Indonesia's future is the island of Java sinking under its population of one hundred million people.
Indonesia's future is 15-watt globes, some white and some black, lightning alternately.
Indonesia's future is two hundred million gaping mouths.
Give
Indonesia
back
to me.
1971.