Solstice: The Season Turns

—Photo by Robert Lee Haycock, Antioch

THE MOON'S BED, THE BRIDE'S BED

—W. S. Rendra (Indonesian)

The moon's bed, the bride's bed:
An azure blue sky

Held up by ancient hands;

A cricket flutters about,

Shrilling a love song to the net.

The moon's bed, the bride's bed,

A chinese junk with a thousand sails

Crossing the sea of sleep;

Stars fall one by one,

Yawning with sweet visions.

The moon's bed, the bride's bed:
A kingdom of ghosts and spirits,

Drunk with the flavour of incense;

Dreams scatter, one by one,

Cracked by brittle truth.

(trans. by Burton Raffel)

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THE WORLD'S FIRST FACE

—W.S. Rendra

In the pale moonlight

He carries his bride

Up that hill,

Both of them naked,

Bringing nothing but themselves.

So in all beginnings

The world is bare.

Empty, free of lies,

Dark with silence—

A silence that sinks

Into the depths of time.

Then comes light,

Existence,

Man and animals.

So in all beginnings

Everything is bare,

Empty, open.

They're both young,

Both have come a long way.

Passing through dawns bright with illusion,

Skies filled with hope,

Rivers lined with comfort,

They have come to the afternoon's warmth,

Both of them dripping with sweat—

And standing on a barren coral reef.

So evening comes,

Bringing dreams

And a bed

Lined with gleaming coral necklaces.

They raise their heads:
Millions of stars in the sky.

This is their inheritance,

Stars and more stars,

More than could ever blink and go out.

In the pale moonlight

He carries his bride

Up that hill.

Both of them naked:
The world's first face.

(trans. by Burton Raffel)

—Photo by Robert Lee Haycock

TALL WEEDS

—W.S. Rendra

You're the woman I love best and forget fastest, my love,

Because in this evil silence weeds grew over my miserable heart,

Tall weeds, with long torturing roots.

They're dark weeds, soft, painful.

She's dark and swaying

And she blossoms in sin.

My heart's still yours

But weeds grow in my breast.

(trans. by Burton Raffel)

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ONLY IN POETRY
—Ajip Rosidi (Indonesian)

In the train

I read poetry: Rendra and Mayakovsky

Yet the words I hear are yours

Above the rhythm of the wheels.

I look outside:
Rice-fields and mountains

And a poem rises

From every bead of sweat

On the brow of the farmer

Throughout his long and lonely day.

I know you know

That life drifts between heaven and earth

Adam was expelled from Paradise

Then searched for Eve.

The poet's fate

Is to knock on door after door

And never find: Restlessly

Refusing

To surrender to his situation.

In the valley I see your calm face.

From the valley your hand stretches forth.

In the train

I read poetry: submission to emotion

Which through the iron fingers of Time

Determines the path of Fate: stretching out

Into the realm of dreams which I shape to no avail.

I know.

You know.

In poetry
Everthing is clear and definite.

(trans. by Harry Aveling)

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Today's LittleNip:

BEHOLD

—Queen Lili'u-o-ka-lani (1939-1917, Hawaiian)

Above, above

all birds in air

below, below

all earth's flowers

inland, inland

all forest trees

seaward, seaward

all ocean fish

sing out and say

again the refrain

Behold this lovely world

(trans. by Mary Kawena Pukui and Alfons L. Korn)

_______________________

—Medusa

—Photo by Robert Lee Haycock

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