four indonesia poets: ajip rosidi + toeti heraty+ subagio sastrowardojo+ goenawan mohamad / translated by harry aveling (TENGGARA 6/ Univ. of Malaya)

           Four Indonesia poets... 
          TENGGARA 6 / Dept. of English/
         University of Malaya/ Kuala Lumpur




                                                               
                                                   p. 3    TENGGARA 6 / 1 973



                                      memory of a masked 
                                  dance from tijrebon
                                                   by  ajip rosidi
                                              TRANSLATED BY HARRY AVELING


               On a stone mountain  man has built a monument 
               A restlessly searching city, a new Seoul, brave
               In its window displays, coloured lights, troubled souls 
               Uncaring searching in a atmosphere of futility

               I see a people adrift between two worlds: 
               And I see myself reflected there.  
               Chasing with passion the shadow of tomorrow
               Dreaming of a past which grow more beautiful as it grows more distant.

               As I watch the masked dance in the Summer Palace
               I remember the beauty of Tjirebon masked dance.
               As I listen to Tang-ak, my body gently at rest
               I remember the beauty of the gamelan of Balu.

              The further I travel, the more I see  
              The more I value my own, carelessly wasted.

               " Takenang Topeng Cirebon [Memory of a Masked Dance form Tjirebon] 
                       apperaed in Basis, Yogyskarta. (December 1970). 
                 (TENGGARA 'S NOTE).


  

                            1-  dark moments of meeting
                              by toeti heraty
                                  TRANSLATED BY HARRY AVELING

               dark moments of meeting   
                     sacredly seeding
               in the lap of silence
                     razor's edge to be surpassed
                     lonely space to signify
               recurrence of creation day

               no, this is
               not a meeting
               but
               pathos trembling withdrawing from witness,

               man surrending to his single arrogance
               secretly enjoying, caressing fingers,
               greedily gulping
                       from the well of life



                                    2- repetition


                 After three days and nights of love, I realize
                        words
                 will never explain
                         the oasis in the desert
                 setting out to explore life
                 they are reluctant to return

                 separated from the world by curtains
                 eyelashes and a circle of light
                          which is just strong enough
                 to colour part of the check
                 and the freshness of tears, full
                         of heart-warm honey
                 your kiss

                 which is he, which me, when skin alone
                          separates ghosted spaces
                 a moist cover as
                          crimson red caresses
                 press face to breast
                 merging in the shadow of here  and there
                 revealing secrets and darkness
                 then silently finding words again
                          spoken pointlessly
                 before the world reforms
                          how cruel
                 the separation after both living in
                 the perfect mandala
                 both asking:
                          will the next time
                          be like this time
                 a silence of question and answer, a moment of intensity
                 love once coveted
                          followed by darkness:
                 black flowers
                 suddenly unfold in the dark
                 but fortunately no one sees them



                                     3- postponement


                 being older
                           I ask no more of him
                 than patience
                          is that impossible?
                 because he has considered more\
                 done more
                           who knows, perhaps
                 a few weeks' difference at most

                 some time the iron city
                 walled in logic
                 will fall and the mighty current
                            swoop down
                 bringing emotion to life
                 starting nerves and veins
                             flooded in the vibration of the rainbow
                 although one by one, stone and tombstone
                 precipitated from numerous roles and actions
                 will stack
                             to stop the path
                 no, we must consider calmly
                 weigh the possibilities:

                 that our lives are brittle, the loss
                 may be too awful, murder made meaningless
                            this have I long known

                 that hopes continually arise, weaving
                 bright patterns, threading desires
                 with dreams, colouring with promises,
                            this is no longer strange

                 the walls will gently break
                 in the force of the incircling flood because
                            we will open the dam

                 because of that, you, because of age, and because
                 of knowing how the world is, must leave
                            the reckoning with time, allow
                 me to commence the sea-moon game, now
                 enjoy the city for a brief space
                            than quickly
                 go

                 TOETI HERATY


                 "Saat-Gelap" [Dark moments of meeting]  "Sekali-sekali "[Repetition], and "Penundan"
                       [Postpomement] are taken from Toeti Heraty      Sajak-sajak, Taman Ismail Marzuki, (Jarkata 1970).
                        (TENGGARA's note).



                         
                                            l'education sentimentale 
                                                                    by subagio sastrowardojo

                                                                      TRANSLATED BY HARRY AVELING



                         to study colour
               I return to the flowers
               in the spring --
               red, yellow, violet -- and the green
               of the grass
               which cracks the black earth
               I learn of light
               from your eyes and hair
               golden, and white
               from the naked sky
               and from your body which I love
               and from death
               whiteness
               I am a flying insect
               driven by passion
               prepared to live for a day

                           " l'Education Sentimentale" first appeared in Horizon, Jarkata (May 1972).
                             (TENGGARA ' s note).




                                         1-asamaradana
                                                                      by goenawan mohamad
                                                          TRANSLATED BY HARRY AVELING



                          (Darmarwulan is here taken leave of Andjasmara, before he goes to battle
                          the invincible Menakdjingga ub defence of her queen. Asmaradana is a Javanese
                          song-form resrved for song of love.  One of the most popular songs has the two beautiful lines;
                          Karia mukti, wong aju/Kakangmas pamit palestra -- Stay and be faithful, beautiful one I love
                          to meeet death.)


        
                       He heard the beat of the winds of the bats and the fall of the rest
                  of the rain, the wind against the teak trees.  He heard the restlessness
                  of the horses and the tug of the chariot as the sky cleared of cloud,
                  revealing the pale-star in the distance.  Between them words were
                  unnecessary.

                 Then he spoke the separation, the death.  He saw the map, fate, the
                 journey and a war indistinctly.

                     He realized she would not cry.  In the morning there were footprints on 
                   the grass in the yard, to the north.  She refused to consider what had
                    passed and what was to come, no longer daring to do so.

                   Andjasmara, my love, stay , again.
                   The moon is covered by the wind, time ignored it.
                   Passing cloud and ember, you forget my face, I forget yours. 

                   "Asmaradana' appeared in Goenawan Mohamad    Pariksit, (Literia Jarkata 1971).  
                           (TENGGARA ' s note).


                                       2- a man murdered near the day
                    of the indonesian general elections


                       "Oh God, may I be among the elect."

                      When the patrol discovered the body at the edge of the rice-field
                      it was like the sudden silencing of a barking dog.  Face down.
                      As if searching for the fragrance and warmth of the rice. But the 
                      smell was strange and the cold on his cheeks unusual. The moon           .                               
                       shone. Then they came -- flashlights, torches, fireflies -- but none of
                      them knew who he was.  He is not from here, said the civil- 
                      defence officer.

                      "May I be among the elect."

                      Beneath the hurricane lamps of the local office they found more .
                      wounds. The shadows shook and the veranda remained in whispers.
                      The man had no identity card.  He had no name.  He had no party.
                       He had no one to cry for him because we could not cary.  We did
                       not even know what religion he was.

                      "O great Map-maker, where is my homeland?'

                       In the morning the city people read about him in the papers.  Some 
                       cried without knowing why.  Others didn't, without knowing why. A 
                       pallid child made a hat from a paper and the wind later blew it away. 
                       See, there it goes.  Into the air with the kites, masking the light. 
                      Then the afternoon birds perched on the wires, as the geese fly 
                       towards the twilight, past the bare plain and the lengthening
                       colours, like ascending smoke.

                      "Oh God, may I be among the elect."

                       GOVENAWAN MOHAMADA
                        

                  "Tentang seorang yang terbunuth"[ A appeared in Horison, Jarkata , (September 1971).
                         (TENGGARA 's note).