PUstaka puJAngga

Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto

KEPADA SPANYOL
José de Espronceda

Percuma kini megah menara ditembok batu dan kekayaan sumber-sumbermu.
Tunjukkan daku sisa pusaka pahlawan perkasa, yang mewangi namamu dengan waninya.

Pernah kau dulu bertahta, tinggi laksana pohon yang megah di puncak gunung Libanon.
Suaramu: Halilintar, bergegas menyambar hati pengecut dengan geger dan gentar takut.

Kau kini terlantar; nasibmu sedih: Padang tandus, dimana sunyi berbungkus mampus.
Dan kembang harapan bangsa, hidup merana, sengsara di jalan rantau dunia.

Kebesaran lama tenggelam sudah, bertutup debu, di bawah rumput dan akar kayu;
Dan kala budak belian melihat nasibmu, tertawa ia, lupa dulu engkau tuannya.

TO SPAIN
By José de Espronceda

It is useless, the luxury of towers are walled and wealth of your resources.
Show me heritage remains of the strong hero, the odorous name of yours and his courage.

You used to the throne once, high like a tall majestic trees in the mountains of Lebanon.
Your voice: Lightning, be in hurry to grab the coward with tantrum and trembling of fear.

You are displaced now; your fate is sorry: dry desert, where the silence wrapped in the death.
And the flower of nations hope, live in misery, miserable on the road of wandering on the world.

The old greatness had been submerged, covered by dirt, under the grass and the root of timber;
And when thrall saw your fate, he laughed at you, forgotten once you were his master.

Don José de Espronceda (1808-1842), is Spanish poet, was born in Almendralejo (Extremadura), and died in Madrid. He is the most revolutionary among the romantic of Spain, he had three times of disposal, to Lissabon, London and Paris. He joined in to fight along with the French revolutionaries in Paris, and he had experienced of love in Lissabon, died at the age of 33 years, in a misery condition, but it was when in his famous. His nickname is “Byron” of Spain, which was strongly influenced by Byron and Hugo. His important works are the poems; Pelayo, El Diablo Mundo, El estudiante Salamanca and elegy A Teresa, which is intended for beloved lover who has left him. (Took from the book “Puisi Dunia” (World Poetry), Volume I, compiled by M. Taslim Ali, Balai Pustaka 1952, which is in retranslation into English would be more or less like above)
***

The voice of poets is the echoes of the most private heart, from the observed suffers had felt by the universe. As the representative of the silence of nature, sang the solitude for the existence of humanity.

His sound is surrounding as if without trace, the clouds in the space of affection. The cloud is unlimited to wander, to save the lonely, and then the rain refined the thinking.

When awakened the nationalism spirit, the truth that he is raising up the humanity races, because he has the true longing, missed to the power of toughness.

Therefore the passion of his lonely is delivered, for the sake of increasing the dignity of equality, hope for nationalism is equally high, no exceptions.

Create a harmonious chorus, aligning the natural sway with the occupants; be sincere to fight shoulder to shoulder for the continuity of peaceful heart.

The tower is the height of achievements in the science for him, structured values, appropriately for each searching.

A building of the temple, the stones are completing each other to get meaning, the corner tells the colors of life, but not the temple I meant, let’s just say that it is the spirit of the temple in our selves.

The essences preserves heritage, the heart be odor as much as a song of waves without war, except in the form of arrogance, laziness, greed, and that the undermines the identity of life.

Then put on the stupa, as reasonable as plugs the mountain of logic, so all views are stuck altogether, he surpassed it step by step, level by level, the grandeur purity of life.

The speech of the prominent people is true, inherit the wealth but the knowledge will engender usurpation, the eternal throne is the source of knowledge, and the top is loving each other.

The deepest heart’s voice of poet could thwart the deception; his soul flew to restrain the mind fell into material wealth.

Grabbed the loser to stir up the soul of fear of losing, his silence attacking fully with the singings of equality.

When the literary blown one another of the trumpet of ideology, of course it is fascinating, but his literary is lost, for the sake to take the view of Gao Xingjian, in the Nobel speech.

The foundling of his fate enters concept, retraced the narrow defect and could not surpass the period of changes, not far to spread the carried seeds, just into the ballot box, the empty inhabitants.

The plain of his reasoning is meant petty by his political opponents, then what he achieved was dry, the flowers are not blooming happily in a pot of luxury, rarely got a touch of tenderness of the host.

The literary merely became arena of debate, rather than sheltering the souls with mature emotion. The values would be pining away cause of fighting each other, tripped each other to compete efficaciousness.

The heart’s whispering could no longer to be buzzed loudly, for the sake of relationship to shower the longing.

The path of the world traveling would be really miserable, the hot arid just boiling up the nerves, because the heart is neglected, no capabilities of passion, other than purely profane passion.

Diversity is buried, covered by the dust of conflict, when voicing the personal interest or even certain groups take precedence.

Its echo is merely decoration, the roots of wooden can not suck the pure water source, from mother of earth that paved the birth of the conscience blast.

The slave of his fate was fought over by of political power, slaves of the destiny slaves are unworthy to be attained.

The rulers are laughing, the literature becomes a game without personality, and its image is sold out in armpit of materialism.

Thus are the reflection of the poem of Espronceda with other understandings, its meaning can be straightened.

For the sake to purify the shown essence digs the spirit of understanding, as the manifestation of the language of beauty.

http://www.sastra-indonesia.com/2010/02/jose-de-espronceda-1808-1842/

Filed under: Essay, PUstaka puJAngga