Dan pancaran matamu adalah syair ribuan hari yang menyihir airmata jadi kuntumkuntum asa. Tubuh kita menjelma rumahrumah pasi di dada jalan yang selalu setia menampung sejarah, kenangan atas perjumpaan dan perpisahan berkali kali
The sweetest melody that plays
on starry nights and wintry days,
most soothing to my listening ears
and calming to beleaguering fears,
I call a symphony on air
the song of sweet, still silence rare.
The birds are in their trees,
the toast is in the toaster,
and the poets are at their windows.
The proofreaders are playing the ping-pong
game of proofreading,
glancing back and forth from page to page,
the chefs are dicing celery and potatoes,
and the poets are at their windows
because it is their job for which
they are paid nothing every Friday afternoon.
History is a hermaphrodite with many distinguished lovers. We are neither mysteries nor strangers but the living breath of revelation made flesh by the unrestrained desires of a free and universal love. Universal me. Universal you.
I think of you when upon the sea the sun flings her beams.
I think of you when the moonlight shines in silvery streams.
I see you when upon the distant hills the dust awakes;
At night when on a fragile bridge the traveler quakes.
I hear you when the billows rise on high,
With murmur deep.
To tread the silent grove where wander I,
When all’s asleep.
breathe in experience breathe out poetry
Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things!
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be;
Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light,
That doth both shine, and give us sight to see.
En la tarde lluviosa
mi corazon aprende
la tragedia otonal
que los arboles lleuven.
if I will write a poem
write the most
one of all
across my skin
not when I’m
trying to imagine
what might happen
if you began
when I’m already
Secure in his flight
Rider on the constant winds
Hawk flies through his days
Looks then to the east
Prompted by fate’s gentle breeze
Changes his intent
Fate’s gentle breezes
Move the mighty heart to change