Ode to Maxwell Bodenheim "cynical is alive" Ayah, Semua ayah adalah pembenci anak lelaki mereka Mereka membenci para pejantan yang diajarinya Karena mereka tahu Anak lelakinya pada suatu ketika akan pergi kearah matahari yang terbit dan tenggelam Sementara sang ayah membusuk didalam tanah Anak lelakinya bercengkerama diatas ranjang bersama seorang perempuan muda dipelukan Sementara sang ayah mendera derita di kursi roda. Ayah, Semua ayah takut anak lelakinya akan menghancurkan hidup mereka lebih dari kehancuran yang diperbuatnya Padahal tak seorang ayahpun yang memberikan kata caci ajaran buruk bagi anak lelakinya. Semua ayah tahu kehidupan keluarga adalah neraka Tapi jika ingin melihat indahnya tengoklah kebun binatang Lihat macan, harimau dan beruang lihat para pejantannya yang mengajarkan perburuan Tentang hidup harus berjuang tentang perihnya luka tentang nestapa tentang cinta ayah kepada anak lelakinya tentang cinta yang sangat cinta. Setiap ayah selalu berpikir, "akan seperti apa hidupku nanti jika anakku seorang perempuan belum sempat aku berpikir untuk mereka..." (1999 - 2002) |
Dear Vachel, Let the Bread's Rhyme
I am longing for disturbing evening
Miserable floating in regardless owl weeping
Lost boy with lost path
Dying in the hands of wrath
I am longing for Your existance
But no one comes over
Except you the lost one like me
You're not Imogen
The one I need most.
Et ego petrarca in lingua vetera scribo
Selected Poems 1999 - 2002

Saturday, October 11, 2008
No. 8 (Dari Perjalanan Ketiga)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Amazing Works
Romance
Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—most familiar bird—
Taught me my alphabet to say,
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child—with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky;
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings,
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things—
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.
- Edgar Allan Poe
Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—most familiar bird—
Taught me my alphabet to say,
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child—with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky;
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings,
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things—
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.
- Edgar Allan Poe
No comments:
Post a Comment