w. s. rendra [1935- 2009] is one of Indonesia's leading poets ... / TENGGARA
TENGGARA 2/ 1968
Dept. of English. Univ of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur/ Malaysia
.
w.s. rendra is one of indonesia's
leading living poets ...
W.S.RENDRA is one of of Indonesia's leading living poet. The three poems pretended below in the original Indonesian in Horizon, the Indonesian literary journal, in Juanary 1968 and created a furore. Horizon had to defend them later as " not being pornographic". How these poems can be described as pornographic." How these poems can be decribed as pornographic is difficult to say. They have the searing directness, the moral tone and form, of legitimate art.
Rendra is a member of the 'New Generation' of Indonesian authors of the mid 1960's. He was born in 1935 in Solo, Central Java, nad brought up in an artistic Catholic family. After studying Western literature at Gajah Mada University, Jogjakarta, he spent several years studying drama in the United States of America from where he has recently returned. Two volumes of his verse have been published Ballada Oran-orang Tertjinta ( Lover's Ballads) in 1957, and Ernpat Kumpulan Sadjak ( Palsms of Roses). The three poems here published in English translation for the first time were written in New York early in January 1967. TENGGARA
Translated by H.G. Aveling
POEMS
Swan Song
The owner of the brothel to her:
"You have been down for two weeks now
You are getting sicker,
You are not bringing in my money.
In fact you owe me money
Here are your wages
I can't carry you any longer.
You must leave today."
(A guardian angel
with face bright and malicious
and burning sword
bows towards me
My blood breezes.
Maria Zaitun in my name
An infortunate whore
Not pretty enough and too old.)
Twelve o'clock in the afternoon.
The sun hot in the sky.
No wind. No clouds,
Maria Zaitun leaves the brothel.
No suitesse,
No possesions.
Her friends look away.
She walks swaying
Body fevered
Syphilis buring her.
Ulcers on her crotch
neck, armpits, breasts,
Her eyes red
Lips dry.
Gums bleeding.
Her heart troubles her again.
She goes to the doctor's
Where many are waiting
And sits among them.
Suddenly they move aside, holding their nostrils.
She swears angrily
but the nurse calls her hastily
She takes her turn before them
and no one complains.
" Maria Zaitun,
you one me quite bit of money," says the doctor.
" Yes" she replies,
" How much have you ?"
" None."
The doctor shakes his head and oders her to undress.
She feel the pain as she undoes her blouse.
because it sticks to an ulcer under her armpit,
"That's sufficient," says the doctor
not examining her.
Whispers to the nurse:
"Give her an injection of vitamin C."
The nurse, surprisedm whispers back:
"Vitamin C?
Doctor, wouldn't she be better off with Salversan?"
" Why?
She cannot pay.
And she is nearly dead.
Why give her expensive medecines
Obtained from overseas?"
( A guardian angel
with face arrogant and malicious
and burning sword
point accusingly at me.
I tremble with fear.
I can feel nothing. Think nothing.
I am Maria Zaitun
An unfortunate and afraid whore.)
One o' clock in the afternoon.
The sun still at its peak.
Maria Zaitun walks without shoes.
And the champ asphalt.
melts beneath her feet.
She walks toward the church.
Whose door is locked
Because they are afraid of thieves.
Goes to the presbytery nad pushes the bell.
The housekeeper comes out and says:
"What do you want?
Father is still having lunch
And this is not his consultation-hour."
"I' m sorry, I'm sick. This is necessary."
The housekeeper examines her dirty foul body
Then says:
"As long as you stay outside you may wait.
I' ll see if father will see you,"
closing the door as she leaves.
She waits in the heat of the sun.
An hour later the priest comes,
having picked the remains of the food
from his teeth
He lights a cigar, then says:
"What do you want?"
Smell of wine from his mouth.
Slippers of crcodile-skin.
Maria Zaitun replies:
" I want to confess my sins."
" But this isn't the confessional-hour
" This is the time I pray."
" I am going to die."
" You are sick?"
" Yes. I have venereal disease."
Hearing this the priest takes two steps back.
His face contracts.
Finally, a little confused, he speak again"
"Are you -- er -- a lady of night?"
" I'm a whore, yes."
" Holy Peter! But you are a catholic ?"
" Yes."
" Holy Peter!"
Three soundless minutes.
Sun continues to burn.
Then the priest says:
" You are led into sin."
" Not led. But I have sinned greatly.
" You were deceived by the devil."
" No. I was forced by poverty
and failure to find a job."
" Holy Peter!"
" Holy Peter ! Father listen to me,
I don't need to know why I sinned
I realise my life has been a failure.
My soul is confused
And I want to die.
I am very scared.
I need God, or whatever
to befriend me."
The face of the priest becomes deep red
He looks down at Maria Zaitun
" You are a wild animal, some sort of bitch.
Maybe you are mad.
But you are not going to die.
You do not need a priest.
You need a psychiatrist."
( A guardian angel
with face arrogant and malicious
and burning sword
points accusingly at me.
I am tired
I cannot cry, I cannot speak
Maria Zaitun is my name
A hungry and thirsty prostitute.)
Three o'clock in the afternoon.
Sun still burning.
Still no wind.
Maria Zaitun walks on tiptoe
on the burning road.
Crossing the street
she sleeps on dog-dung
Doesn't fall
But blood flows from the ucler on her crotch
and trickles to her foot.
Like a cow giving birth
she walks gingerly
Stops near the market.
Looks flashes .
Breathes quickly. Hungry.
People move to avoid her.
Goes behind a restaurant
Gathers scraps of food from a bin.
Then wraps them carefully
In a banana leaf
And walks away out of the town.
( A guardian angel
with face cold and malicious
and burning sword
point accusingly at me.
Oh God hear me
Maria Zaitun is my name.
A weak whore, trembling with fear.)
Four o'clock in the afternoon.
She walks like a snail.
Bundle of food in her hand
not yet eaten.
Forehead damp.
Hair straggly.
Face thin and green
like a dried citrus-fruit.
Then it is five o'clock.
She has left the town
The roads are no longer asphalt
just dust.
Looks at the sun
and slowly says : " Stinker"
After walking another kilometer
leaves the main road
turns across the ricefields
walking on the bunds.
( A guardian angel
with face superior and mlicious
and burning sword
drives me out .
Loathingly
thrusts his strong sword
into my crotch.
Hear, Oh Lord,
Maria Zaitun my name.
Defeated whore.
Humbled whore.)
Six o'clock evening.
Maria Zaitun arrives at the river.
Wind blows.
Sun sets.
Twilight descends.
Tiredly lies down at the edge of the river.
Washes her feet, hands and face.
Slowly eats
Stopping after a moment.
Still tired
but with no wish to eat any further.
Drinks water from the river.
(Guardian angel
don't you feel that twilight has come
wind coming down from the mountains
day laying down its body?
Guardian angel
sternly forbiding.
Stands like a statue.
Flaming sword.)
Seven o'clock. Night comes
Insects buzz.
River strikes rocks
are still
and shine in the light of the moon.
Maria Zaitun is afraid no longer.
Climbing trees.
And fishing with her sweetheart.
She is no longer afraid.
Fear has gone.
Feels as though meeting an old friend
And would rather tell fairystories
about her life.
Because she is aware of the failure her life is
becomes sad.
And confesses to her friend
sobbing.
Which is not good for her heart.
( A guardian angel
with face cold and malicious
Refuses to hear my reply.
To see my eyes.
It is futile to speak to him.
Stiffly he stands.
With his burning sword.)
Time.
Moon.
Trees.
River.
Ulcers.
Syphilis.
Woman.
Like glass.
River reflecting the light.
Long grass shining.
Moon.
A man comes across the river.
Calls: " Maria Zaitun is that you ?"
" Yes," answers Maria Zaitun surprised
Man crosses the river.
Firmly-built and good-lloking.
Hair is early and eyes shine.
Maria Zaitun' s heart beats faster
Feels she has known this man.
Though doesn't know where.
Certainly not in bed.
Which is a pity. She likes such a man.
"So here we meet,"says the man.
Maria Zaitun doesn't know what to say.
For a moment is surprised
as the man bends and kisses her lips.
Tastes like coconut milk.
She has never known a kiss like that one.
Opens her brassiere.
She does not struggle, indeed is pleased.
Surrenders.
With eyes closed
feels as if sailing
on some never before known sea.
And when it is finished
says wonderingly:
" Only in a dream had I thought
that this might happen to me.
I had never dared hope
a man as handsome as you
might pass through my life."
With great delight he looks at her.
Then smiles, respectfully and patiently.
" Who are you?" asks Maria Zaitun.
" The bride-groom," he replies.
" Show me. You're joking."
And as she says so
Maria Zaitun kisses the man's body all over.
Suddenly stops.
Finds the mark of wounds on the body
of her hero. In his left side.
In both hands,
In both feet,
Says slowly:
" I know who you are."
Then looks full at the man.
He nods his head? " Indeed. Yes ."
( Guardian angel
with face wiked and malicious
and burning sword
can do nothing
Freezes stifly
no longer daring to point at me.
I am no longer afraid
Loneliness and misery are destroyed.
Dancing I enter the garden of paradise
and eat as many apples as I want .
Maria Zaitun is my name.
Whore and bride both."
[]
w. s. rendra
(to be continued )
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