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Three Meditations of Sulaiman Djaya

Iranian Art by Imam Maleki

Calendar

Once again, layers of years are spread
upon faded and washed out ancient colors.
January comes to you, leaving behind many days
of embroidering silent, before whispers of vagueness turn into boredom.

But I only wish to stop by for a while
on fate that waves its hand.
Like the first night train that comes,
approaching your house.

I only wish to stop by for a moment
at a line of rain, writing poems for you to sing,
contemplating on the dimness of a street lamp, where the dates fell off
and you start to miss your no-longer-desolate moments.

Song of March

Even though my path and life are gloomy,
do not ask me of how I’d wish a poem
should be recited. Simply read and listen:
does it tell of happiness or futility?

Since a soundless sob is a deeper moan
than cry. Since slower than a tone
is a silent motion without any punctuation mark.
As if a figure and its footsteps.

Since hollower than emptiness is the mind
and thoughts ceaselessly searching
for their past trails. As if the bright light and
its shadow, constantly presents yet vanishes.

I Just Wish To Be Close

I believe in something, whose splendor resembles it
to a reflection of light on the water. And boundaries
have teased me no longer. I only wish to be close
to everything that refuses to greet me. I only wish
to get intimate and get used to the gloom
and to the bright without any suspicion or fear
of betrayal that comes as I am defenseless.
And I do not wish to do something without wanting
to do it at once. I only wish to understand everything
and to be there, when my eyes are asleep yet they’re
gazing at the long and slow moving sound and motion.

Translated from Indonesian by Nikmah Sarjono.

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