Ina Mia
Lying in the lap of morning
-it's just turned light-
Ina Mia gropes for
the heart of her dream,
Ina Mia touches
just the rind of hope,
Ina Mia
takes a long breath
along the edge of the valley
of passion
that's been blown away.
Among the leaves gone gray as dust
she feel's, trembling for a moment,
the mist of an old love, a lost love.
Ina Mia stands on the green grass.
A breeze springs up, and
-the last of the fan-waving girls-
she turns away
in time to see a soldier hurrying away, around the corner.
An Ordinary Song
On the restaurant terrace, now, we're face to face
just introduced. We simply stare
although we've already dived into the ocean of each other's souls.
In this first act
we're still only looking
the orchestra plays "Carmen" along with us.
She winks. She laughs
and the dry grass blazes up.
She speaks. Her voice is loud
My blood stops running.
When the orchestra begins the "Ave Maria"
I drag her over there...
I Run Around with Them
I run around with them, what else can I do, now-
changing my face at the edge of the street, I use their eyes
and tag along to visit the fun-houses:
these are the facts as they know them
(a new American flick at the Capitol,
the new songs they dance to).
We go home, there's nothing doing,
though this kind of death is our neighbor, now, our friend.
Hanging around at the tram stop,
we wait for the Chinatown trolley
that glows night to day like a gold tooth;
lame, deformed, unable to keep our promises,
we lean our boney asses on lamp poles
and jaw away the years.
It's raining. We wait for the Chinatown trolley.
And ah, there's a prayer in our hearts, tonight,
that whoever reads what this hand writes will read out of love:
may syphilis and leprosy
(not to mention all the agonies of the atomic bomb)
be a proof, be a sign that we've lived the good life together;
Let my world be all right,
for those who can bear witness to its poisons.
Darkness, and them: I feel them both in my heart. Both.
translated from the Indonesian by Burton Raffel