Poetry of Nurel Javissyarqi

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Translated by Agus B. Harianto

[WORDS GIVER]
To Johann Christian Günther

Your soul hovered
looking for points of immortality.

Disengaged the body to swish
echoed in cavities of breath.
Did you agitated always
in the nature of immortality?

Pursuing the light
sculpting the twilight.

[GATE OF TIME]
To Konstantin Dimitriwitsj Balmont

With the white moon hanging
hunger satiety in reverie.

Through the boundaries of the gate
meted out the clouds and stars
:
he proposed the heart reaching eternality.

[BREATH OF HUSK]
For Alexander Blok

Most primordial black ash
touched and affected to your heart.

Twig wood of the forest
gloomy as charcoal stays still.

But, the rustling wind rose up
as lively as the flame lit the soul.

[FROZEN TIME]
To Jalaluddin Rumi

I visited you in the jail of time
never depressed though skinned by really cold.

The soul solemnly been alone in nature of meditation
washed by flower dew of purity.

As clear as river caresses stones
strikes coarse grasses at the mist of dawn.

Memories are collected in the sheaths of the night
seen by full moon to visit the residence.

Leads the sacrifice of clear love
thousands of stars lighten the grasses.
Breath’s cavity of lightning stroke by the wind
grabbed the consciousness of eyelashes.

Your odorous (well-known) restraint for centuries,
I am coastal sand blown by waves over and over.

[A SEED OF CORN]
To Thales

You scattered a corn seed onto the sea,
rolled by the waves hitting rocks.

Slammed onto the seashore, pushed it
like the boat witnessed the inland
:
swept away by the wind pent up in the past.

So many years in a pulse of water harmoniously to the soul,
the cloud covers the earth getting older.

Evoked the ghosts, lightning mad
splitting the sky plated the ocean water
:
as far as the sun thrown by twilight.

The law of time found parts of the continent
cactuses be wilder to trap fish
:
squeaked of red soil in the country behind the moon.

You left me alone at the end of time
lips seduce to decide ten fingers doubtful
:
combing pieces of the long hair of age.

I was proposed by destiny, have within your belief,
I am grain of corn, be longing to the history of your thrown about.

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