For him, every day is rainy
Who nailed the earth with fears
Song of the mountain, the vibration of trees, plants whisper
Is torture
Somehow he soak the sand with the sun
The sea behind the hills, groaned, and then die
White-backed fish, slanted eyes
Poking the boat looked lost, his mouth locked
Similar statues mossy, frozen Prophets
Perhaps in this life, travel time not as blue as Lake Sentani
Feels more lonely bitter gall, from the death of seals on a raft
Skin smashed
Just like an elegy:
A young fisherman rusty ribs
A grain of salt helpless in the stomach is full of fire
Witnessing his father's eyes glittered
Wives claim to love children
But the plant thorns, deceptive web of its own
The days were so faithful, waiting for the witch offer sunflower seeds
Then caress ash and dust settled on his self-
Does not he realize?
This is the month of May tearful drizzle
Hordes of middle-aged men want to return to the womb of the mother
"There is no sadness there, the place is paradise!"
From a distance, the sound of black hawk down sobbing at the foot of the old gods
Drifting without form, unable to rotate the earth
Everything becomes fears in his own mind
And he, silent in the noise passion
Sensing her figure filled with beetles, brown and red
Instantly silent sea,
Many thousands of flying fish to hide, like the waves of calm into the mist
He was rushed to weigh a handful of heart, oh like myself
The man with the clay body, sculpted on mangrove roots
Without a voice...
Surabaya, June 2011
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Malika Hasan. Woman poet with a straightforward poems and works well as an entrepreneur. Living in Surabaya.
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