Sandstone.

 

"Take me to the other side of this night,

Where I am you,

We are us

The kingdom where pronouns are intertwined,

And the sea sang with the murmur of  light".

 

(Octavio Paz, Sandstone)

 

 



Yen Ing Tawang Ono Lintang.

 

Yen ing tawang ono lintang, cah ayu,

Aku ngenteni tekamu,

Marang mega ing angkasa, nimas,

Ingsun tekok 'ke pawartamu.

 

(If there's stars in the sky, beautiful,

I'm waiting for you,

To the clouds in the sky, my dear,

I'm asking, 'how are you' )



Tobacco Kiosk.

 

Tobbaco Kiosk.

 

I am nothing

I shall always be nothing

I cannot wish to be anything

Aside from that, I have within me  all the dreams of the world.

 

Windows of my room

The room of one of the world's millions nobody knows about

(And if they knew about me, what would they know?)

Open onto the mystery of a street contiously crossed by people

To a street inaccessible to any thought

Real, impossibly real, certain, unknowingly certain,

With the mystery of things beneath the stones and beings

With death making the walls damp and men's hair white

With the destiny driving the wagon of everything down the road of nothing.

 

Today I'm defeated, as if I knew the truth

Today I'm clear minded, as if I'm going to die

And had no more kinship with things

Then goodbye, this building and this side of street becoming

A long row of train carriages, and whistle departing

From inside my head

And a jolt of my nerves and a creak of bones as we go.

 

Today I'm bewildered

As one who wondered, discovered, and forgot

Today I'm devided between the loyality I owe

To the outward reality of the tobacco kiosk at the other side of the street

And to the inward real feeling that everything is just but a dream

I have missed everything

And since I have no aims,

Maybe everything was indeed nothing.

 

What I was taught

I go down from the window from the back of the house

I went to the countryside with grand plans

But all I found in it was grass and trees

And where there were people, they were just like any other people

I step back from the window and sat in a chair.

What should I think about now?

 

(From; Tabacaria, by Fernando Pessoa, 1888-1935)

 

 

 

 



Epitaph.

 

 

Nothing had ever obliged him to do anything.

He had spend his childhood alone.

He never joined any group.

He never pursued a course of study.

He never belonged to a crowd.

The circumstances of his life were marked-

by that strange but rather common phenomenon.

Perhaps, in fact, it's true for all lives,

Of being tailored to the image

and likeness of his instincts,

Which tended toward inertia and withdrawal.

 

(Fernando Pessoa,, 1888-1935)

 

 



Missing you.

 

YOU NEVER KNOW HOW MUCH YOU LOVE SOMEONE

UNTIL THEY'RE GONE .