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Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto

Fine thread of visible lassoes her looking
climbed the height of wave don’t know where to
season destination of young estimation be with you.

The fingers reach into the cloud,
the rain showers dreams almost lost.

Rearrange the step out to explore the secret,
would appear if aim to the end of time.

Shawl you fly was a real of its color
won’t faded even flitted embroidery
I paid attention to the fragrant of blossoming existence.

Carries your thrown as high as your levee,
occasionally shake smacker of the drizzle of sacred.

The cloud fringing the origin of wind charmed you,
the light scattered out as the singing of my hair.

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