PUstaka puJAngga

Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto

SONETA BUAT HELENA
Pierre de Ronsard

Bila kau telah tua, duduk termenung di tepi senja,
Menyulam-nyulam dekat tungku dalam terang pelita,
Senandungkanlah sajakku dan takjubi kisah lama:
Ach, Ronsard memuja daku kala diri muda juwita.

Siapapun nanti pelayanmu, demi mendengar ini kisah,
Walau tengah manggut-manggut selagi asyik bekerja,
Oleh mendengar namaku saja, maka ia pun bangkitlah,
Dan namamu direstunya dengan puji tidak berhingga.

Akupun telah dikubur orang dan ruhku tak bertulang
Bakal pergi istirahat di daerah wangi bayang-bayang.
Tapi kau akan jongkok dekat tungku, bungkuk dan tua,

Menyesali cintaku telah kau tampik serta ejekkan.
Percayalah kataku ini: Hidup kini jangan esokkan;
Petiklah sedari kini mawar kehidupan dini dunia.

Sonnet FOR HELENA
Pierre de Ronsard

If you have old, sit on the edge of dusk,
Embroidering near stove in the light of lamp,
Recite my poem and admire on old story:
Ach, Ronsard worshiped me when I was young and pretty.

Whoever your servant will, for hearing this story,
Despite of admiring with nodding while working happily,
Just by hearing my name, hence he would arise,
And your name he blessed with uncountable praise.

I had been buried by people either, and my spirit had no bones
Would take a rest in fragrant sphere of shadows.
But you would squat near the stove, bent and old,

Regretting my love have you hued and insulted.
Believe what I told you this: Life today is not tomorrow;
Take it from now the rose of early life of the world.

(Took from the book Puisi Dunia which in re-translation into English more less like above)

Pierre de Ronsard (September 11, 1524 – Dec 1585), in a book I read Puisi Dunia (World Poetry) Volume I, compiled by M. Taslim Ali, Balai Pustaka, 1952, was born in 1925. Ronsard is Pleiade leaders, the associations of seven poets which their poems follow the rhythm and stream of the Roman and Greek poets, such as Petrarca, Horatius, Pindarus, Theocritus and also Propertius. His love poems are famously sweet and easy to follow, even on his ideas. He is noble birth, when he was young living in Astana Francois I, kind of runner of the king, then he entered the French diplomatic service in Skotia and British, until he was deaf by an illness and insisted to quit. In 1560 – 1574, he was officially became a court poet of Henry II and Charles II, then he resigned from the association. Ronsard is well known as the greatest French poet of his era and reformer who his influenced is also widespread to English poets of the Queen Elisabeth periods.
***

When Ronsard recited his heart’s song, mist of highland was transformed unstuck honey on teeth, but its sweet more than seven kinds of taste.

Poet only entertained by himself, when his soul pain stoned by heartache of time until he promised in the heart to reach unsigned time.

There was a light of brilliant feeling bear down upon him, but they were not in knowing. Stacked silence perpetuated by simple sentence, still exceeds the incision of women who left her boyfriend to the ground across.

Only the stove of soul been abundance of prayer to keep stepped the spirit to be perched on the light. Thus Ronsard took past events to be presented on the presence of listeners.

What had not said has satiated fully delicacy, not any savor by tongue and tasted by lips; heart firmly accepted the fall of bitter fate had reached.

Like across the river canoe to the middle of the night stars. That’s where the forest of his ideas grows, such as honeybees as his servant and ants always accompany every reflection.

When the human being could not read his language, the other Gods creatures was sing its beauty. This is balancing the nature with the one’s asceticism in the cave of hermitage, reliefs testified; the seriousness is not always could be understood, except in rhythm of ocean waves.

Ronsard invited to dialogue possibilities of shadow’s color of light, by the face of the future on the sacrifice this long time to be polite to reciting omen. The listeners did not feel have been dragging by difficult questions for getting answers.

His reason was working to touch the spacious time and narrow one, and then used the language of squeezed by situation, for more if in concessions stabbed into chest lovingly.

When calling his own name, I just smiled; my hair on neck was shuddering vibrated by something far but felt so close such as a vibration mixed to the body.

Usually a happy human being stroked by the softness of feeling until the consciousness lost till definite seconds approaching to craziness and thoughts out. Thus are the poets when they felt the advent of literary, for instance pulung would not ever move to another person if the owner be able to take care of purity. (pulung= flash of light which gives someone power enabling him to be legitimized as ruler)

His resurrection aroused everyone and followed by all plants, animals, humming birds. In breadth of hand that as at the distant of shepherd was playing flute and long whistling well beyond the past century and the future as well.

So considers the excessive words, there may thorns stabbed into the feet and pierced the heart, then followed to the most beautiful one, who knows it will reduce the scale some days later, in order not crippled stuck to the idol’s forehead.

The echo of Ronsard among cavity of the sky infiltrated into behind the signs and reflected by lake plain hip. It was repeatedly until stalks break and fall can be joint again.

Poet has no ability to raise the dead, but he has the power of aroused the spirit of ancestors through beyond the continent-ocean stretched so far. His faith is a blink of eyes he had reached the plain of colorful sky, where he picks up the words that are never heard by the others.

There are rumbling thunders in the ear was friendly, but none knew who hummed it. That is the voice of heart blanketed by the most sacred quiet, but the people even though paid attention; their steps didn’t follow their conscience.

At the top of the rainbow in the sky of heart purity, Ronsard saw the future ages would bow with respect, but he did not feel proud because he felt that all by the Beyond Power.

The heart that always be purified will be easy to catch tenderness. Not understood one but the understanding sought, and the mental maturity as the daily reward.

In the sonnet above that made me drifted away and had fun to manifest inner-body-spirit with Helena, the roses of dawn waddled and tempted hikers.

There were easy times drawn such like thousands sheets of past fog flocked to the eyelid. We just permeates our life and can take a form.

Like the smile that always imagined to the bottom of dreams by young has been afflicting bad luck of longing which has sharp understanding, and jealousy delivered the smell of heaven as if he really felt true sense of the top of God’s presence.

Oh Ronsard, what kind of oil lamps with, you striped your poems until the beauty eyes drop its tear, and regret reaching the world of meaning than the discovery of experts in each ages that kept loaded with malevolent hostility.

I want to lay down my self and feel the grass-flower of your sonnets was livened by the renewal of the dew.

The fruit came down from heaven and a bird delivered it, the poet depicted to perpetuate the preserved values, even beyond the millions ages of fully intrigue and chaos of war also defamation burnt all descendants.

Ronsard, by the deafness of your hearing in old age, your greatest dignity that was like prophet had incarnated to be maturity.

http://www.sastra-indonesia.com/2009/12/pierre-de-ronsard-1524-1585/

Filed under: Essay, PUstaka puJAngga