APPENDIX Trans1ation of Poems Quoted in the Text *
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APPENDIX 257 APPENDIX Trans1ation of Poems Quoted in the Text * LANGUAGE, NATION (p. 10) When it is small and of tender years, The child sleeps in its mother's lap, Its mother sings songs and lullabies to it, Praising it as is right and proper, Rocking it in love night and day, In its cradle suspended over the land of its ancestors. Born into a nation with its own language, Surrounded by its family and relations, It will grow up in wisdom in the Malay land, In sorrow and in joy and in grief; Its feeling of solidarity is consolidated By its language, so beautiful and melodious. We lament and wail, and also rejoice, In times of good fortune, catastrophe and danger, We breathe so that we can go on living To continue to use the language which is an extension of our spirit Wherever Sumatra is, there is my nation, Wherever Pertja * is, there is my language. My beloved Andalas,* land of my birth From my childhood and youth Until the grave envelopes me, I shall never forget my language Remember, 0 youth, Sumatra is in distress Without a language, the nation disappears. (Muhammad Yamin) * Pertja and Andalas, other names for Sumatra. DIVINE CELESTIAL (? DAWN) (p. II) See the east, a riot of colour, The dawn is glowing, the day breaks The sun strews its clear rays, Imagination smiles, with all its five senses. * For some translations in this appendix grateful use has been made of earlier translations by Professor A. H. Johns and Professor Burton Raffel; see Johns (1964a, 1964b, 1%6), Raffel (1%4, 1%6-7) and Chairil Anwar (1963). This has been acknowledged in each individual case. In all other instances the translation was made specifically for this book. 258 MODERN INDONESIAN LITERATURE A soft breeze blows from the sky Blows on the earth, a twig trembles; The wild beasts leap out of their dens On seeing the pure celestial beauty The sky has become a clear azure One by one the stars disappear Even the lustre of Venus begins to fade The animals accept Nature's greetings The heart is joyful beyond words To see the marvels of God the Perfect. (Muhammad Hatta) (P·19) I am no good at story telling, Nor am I clever at composing shair poetry I am not a slave of this land, Bound by the laws of the experts. I reject the rules of grammar, The structure of the old poems I reject and I deny, Because my song obeys my soul. (Rustam Effendi) Father, My heart is melancholy, And I have lost all hope Sadness cuts me like a knife The eaglewood forest has lost its value The wide world, The splashing sea Weep and lament Moan and howl Begging (and) hesitating, Accepting their lot. The leaves and branches Sob continually The wind moans Expressing its longing. (Rustam Effendi) POEM (p.21) In what does the value of a poem lie? Not in its aim and content, But in the form, the fine words Which we choose with an eye to harmony. The first question which comes to mind After we have finished reading a poem: To what extent can it be said to have power To bind us in its spell? APPENDIX 259 The emotions of the poet when he writes, (When) the words come crowding Unbidden from his pen Must recur in the reader Just as an image in front of the mirror; The inner soul must be moved. (Sanusi Pane) PERMIT ME ••• (P.24) Permit me To arrange flowers Permit me To compose poetry Permit me To fill the sirih bowl Permit me To praise you. ( Sanusi Pane) HOW COULD WE FAIL TO BE HAPPY? (P.25) How could the flower Fail to unfold On seeing the light Of the sun? How could we Fail to be happy On seeing the face Of our beloved? (Sanusi Pane) TJANDI MENDUT (p. 26) In a space filled with light and shade The image of Buddha upon his throne, His face at peace, restful, calm, To right and left Boddhisatwas. Time stands still in this place There is no movement, nothing but stillness Opposing principles here are united The world is still, and life is smooth. Be still, my heart, have no desire, Cherish feeling no more, Hoping for happiness in this fleeting world. In meditation take your flight, 0 soul, Towards the azure of the sky And the peace of the heaven of Nirvana. (Sanusi Pane) 260 MODERN INDONESIAN LITERATURE PRAYER (p.26) Make me, exalted Engineer, Into a screw for Your engine Which propels the ship of the world Into the harbour of non-differentiation from You. Rub me, exalted Engineer When I am rusty, with Your oil So that I may bring mankind along To the continent of Your perfection. (Sanusi Pane) MY LANGUAGE (p. 30) My language, Conductor of the impulses of my soul, Which portrays the trials of my spirit, Which binds us together in our desire for unity Which disseminates the new spirit. My language, Gleaming and glittering Like the dew visible in the morning, When the blinding sun shines upon it I hold You in high esteem. My language, You arouse my enthusiasm, You have a strong sound The boom of your thunder is swift, With an impact like lightning. My language, So soft and gentle of sound Rippling like flowing water Wafting like a breath of air Or bursting forth with laughter. My language, There is refinement in You, You are full of beauty The mark of the culture Of our whole nation. 'My language, In You lies hidden An indescribable power As medicine for a sickness of the spirit Ennobling the character. My language, A noble ancestral heritage, If you disappear or lose your lustre This means the decline of my people, I stand prepared to put you in order. (s. Yudho) APPENDIX 261 HEADING FOR THE SEA (P.34) We have left you behind, Lake, tranquil without a ripple Sheltered by wooded mountains From wind and hurricane. For once we are awakened From a pleasant dream: . From that time on our souls are restless Once they have striven they can no longer rest The former tranquillity palls The sheltering mountain appears now as an obstacle The heart revolts and wants to be free Attacking everything that bars the way. With a thunderous din we fall A glittering string of pearls dashed down. Our voices cry out in tumult Terrible is the roar of our voices in victory. Sighs and laughter alternate Cries and shouts sound and resound. But however difficult the road may be Even though our bodies be felled, our heads smashed Our hearts crushed, our minds confused, We still will not draw back, And we do not lament our former tranquillity .. _... (St. Takdir Alisjahbana) TJANDI PRAMBANAN (p. 35) My heart does not yearn for you, 0 time when sages. prostrated themselves before Shiwa, and when devout souls found expression in temples rich in images. No, no! No, no! o God, 0 my Lord, give back to your people that sincerity of spirit which created temples! And then I shall bring forth a new art, not of the same form as this . ., but eternal, and in tune with the swelling of my soul and my age. WILLEM KLOOS (P.44) In the blaze of passion To tear down the walls of tradition He has deified the beauties of nature And made himself into a God. The power of his soul has burnt itself out in a flash In the forging of a dozen songs. And then his life became dark He lives only on memories in his loneliness. The morning began in a blaze of glory The sun rose high pouring forth its brightness Then it set, and the world became dark. 262 MODERN INDONESIAN LITERATURE All inspiration disappeared leaving no trace But still he sat writing Arranging his "inner thoughts". 0. E. Tatengkeng) A LITTLE POEM (P.49) From my heart: a block of sadness I continually slice off little poems Blood keeps spurting forth And the pain is beyond description. But my mouth keeps on smiling People like me Receive the blessings of creative joy * In excruciating torture. My heart is the heart of a poet A heart that is always being injured and wounded A heart which is always athirst for love But never finds it. But I owe a debt of gratitude Te my sad fate Because of it from my heart Wells the spring of poetry. (Asmara Hadi) * sani: read seni, art? Or a Min. form of seni? Or Arabic sam', Creator? MY SOUL IS WITHERED (p. 80) My soul is a tree that has withered away Standing stark, and silenced in the twilight Extending its arms, in the stiffness of death, The day is clear, silent and lonely The pure moon hangs on a screen In deathly silence the world waits. (Armijn Pane) HANG TUAH (p. 88) The wind blows and whips up the waves, And seizes the water causing the foam to fly. In the Malacca Strait the waves break Beating against each other and splitting each other. Ships are buffetted, sterns slewed around, War prows are pounded, towed by the bow. The seagulls fly around with loud cries The moon disappears, dips in the ocean. The Portuguese armada advances in formation, Malacca is the place they are going to couquer. APPENDIX 263 Gallions and fustas, tall and strong Fleet and savage, spruce and arrogant. (Amir Hamzah) THERE IS ONLY ONE (P.9I) An intention is formed in your heart, Rain pours down, the storm breaks, Drenched and drowned, Collapsed and broken is your shady garden.