For Iman Budhi Santosa
Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto
The march of my jealousy to you
the cloud curved on the purple sky.
Wailing to hoard the story of past,
in the country that last night crushed by hurly-burly.
Tree branches were burnt
licked by the lightning stroke.
Dropped a kiss of death to rock
missed shadow and conquered the revenge.
It said that the breaker of destiny would come
as a hammer hit fiber of the time.
On the forehead of fog’s wrinkles of mountain
as far as the heart crashed by froth of beach.
Symbolized in the deed of interpretation
entering the dance of soul aims to go home.
It has the lunge power of possibilities,
more horrified than a bunch of treason.