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Kami yang kini terbaring antara Krawang-Bekasi
tidak bisa teriak “Merdeka” dan angkat senjata lagi.
Tapi siapakah yang tidak lagi mendengar deru kami,
terbayang kami maju dan mendegap hati ?
Kami bicara padamu dalam hening di malam sepi
Jika dada rasa hampa dan jam dinding yang berdetak
Kami mati muda. Yang tinggal tulang diliputi debu.
Kenang, kenanglah kami.
Kami sudah coba apa yang kami bisa
Tapi kerja belum selesai, belum bisa memperhitungkan arti 4-5 ribu nyawa
Kami cuma tulang-tulang berserakan
Tapi adalah kepunyaanmu
Kaulah lagi yang tentukan nilai tulang-tulang berserakan
Atau jiwa kami melayang untuk kemerdekaan kemenangan dan harapan
atau tidak untuk apa-apa,
Kami tidak tahu, kami tidak lagi bisa berkata
Kaulah sekarang yang berkata
Kami bicara padamu dalam hening di malam sepi
Jika ada rasa hampa dan jam dinding yang berdetak
Kenang, kenanglah kami
Teruskan, teruskan jiwa kami
Menjaga Bung Karno
menjaga Bung Hatta
menjaga Bung Sjahrir
Kami sekarang mayat
Berikan kami arti
Berjagalah terus di garis batas pernyataan dan impian
Kenang, kenanglah kami
yang tinggal tulang-tulang diliputi debu
Beribu kami terbaring antara Krawang-Bekasi
Chairil Anwar (1948)
Brawidjaja, Jilid 7, No 16, 1957
[Krawang-Bekasi]
--translated by Burton Raffel
We who are lying, now, near Krawang-Bekasi,
We can no longer cry out “Freedom,” no longer lift our rifles
But who cannot still hear our moans?
Still see us marching forward, unafraid?
We speak to you out of the suspended silence of evening
When the chest feels empty, when clocks tick away time
We died young. All that remains of us: bones covered with dust.
Remember, remember us!
We’ve tried, done all we could
But the job isn’t finished, is hardly begun
We’ve given the lives we had
The job isn’t finished, no one can count up, still, the meaning of four thousand,
of five thousand lives
We are only scattered bones
But they belong to you
And you will decide the value of these scattered bones
Either we died for freedom, for victory, for hope
Or for nothing.
We don’t know, we can no longer say
Only you can speak, now
We speak to you out of the suspended silence of evening
When the chest feels empty, when clocks tick away time
Remember, remember us—
Let our lives live on
Guarding Soekarno
Guarding Hatta
Guarding Sjahrir
We are corpses
Give us meaning
Keep watch over the frontier between reality and illusion
Remember, remember us
Who survive only in these bones covered with dust
Thousands of us, lying near Krawang-Bekasi.
．Burton Raffel, ed. & trans., The Complete Poetry and Prose of Chairil Anwar,
Albany : State University of New York Press, 1970, pp. 126-129.
Indonesian poem : Krawang - Bekasi by Chairil Anwar (1948)
Dante Alighieri
My apologies, to Dante Alighieri; my highest tribute to this great artist, but this alteration of his poems on my blog has meant nothing but to give it a higher meaning. For me, and for others who reads it.
And for whoever who reads this blog, please don’t refer this blog as some official references to Dante’s work because it is NOT.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Through you I enter the city of woes,
Through you I enter the eternal pain,
Through you I enter the population of loss.
...
Thou art not dead, but in delusion strayest,
Poor soul, who so lamentest thy estate,
Exclaims a little gentle spirit of love;
For this fair gentleman, who disquiets thee,
Has so transform’d thy life, that thou hast fear
Of him, so spiritless thou art become.
... I feel the mighty power of Love so great
That I cannot endure
Its suffering long; whence I am sorely grieved;
For he is ever growing in his strength,
And I feel mine decay;
So that each hour I am weaker than before.
I ask not Love to grant more than I wish,
For should he grant all the will requires,
The virtue which from nature I derive
Could bear it not, for it is limited
And this it is of which my heart complains,
That power corresponds not to desire.
But if from good desire reward should spring,
I claim it, in a grant of longer life,
From those fair eyes, whose splendour, sweetly mild,
Brings comfort when I feel Love’s influence.
... O true must be the love which captivates,
And strong must be the chain,
Since I would do for it what I aver
For love exists not of an equal weight
To that which pleasures finds
In death, from serving another well.
... No power but that of Love could render me
Deserving to be made
Subject of him ....
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