love pamflet by w s rendra

Ma, see the sun from one side.
Looking all the way from your face.

I do not see the running time of order.
I see the time go over the society.
I miss your face,
and I saw the faces bloody students.
Campus has been attacked armored car.
Words have to be weapons.
I am fed up with the style of the security of this kind.
Why security is to create fear
Security should be the source of law and common sense.
Security is based on the weapons and power is oppression.

One night I bathed in the sea.
Quiet menjdai glass.
Flowers that bloom magically in the sky.
I want you, but you do not have.
A quiet glass.

What can be done by the poet
if every word has to be power?
Air remorseful suspicious.
Tegur do without insurance.

Air-sea fulgurate flash.
Voice voice sea is lonely.
And then show your face.

You become the meaning of
The meaning of hope to be.
... .... Whether the actual expectations?
The hope is because I will caress your hair.
The hope is because I will still be writing rhymes.
The hope is because I want to do something.
I laugh, Ma!

Wind sweep my hair.
I have to be what has happened.

I run ten years without sleep.
My buttocks rusty I drag from a stall to stall.
Perutku torn in a quiet road ... ....
No. I am not sad and lonely.
I write rhymes in the train bordes.
I swarm in the dusty air.

Are with the mongrel dog-and cat-cat wild,
I enjoy singing live the gray.
Then you appear,
out of the stomach full sun,
twelve o'clock noon quarter.
I am upset.
I disergap unexpected events.
Grace like rain falls down
I make a fresh,
shivering but also wonder.
I am so stupid, Ma!

Yaaah, Ma, you love is happy and sad.
Happy because you have the imagination,
and sad because we are often separated.
Tension into fertilizer love us.
But life itself is not the happy and sad?
Happy because the breath flow and heart rattle.
Sad because my mind covered shadow.
The hope is understanding akan tension.

Ma, nyamperin sun from one side,
look of your face the whole way.


Pejambon, Jakarta, 28 April 1978
Portrait of Development in Poetry