A bizarre country

Yours is an inconceivable homeland.
It is filled with fertile patches
and beaming paddy fields,
virgin forests and
beautiful hills.
But a question is still hanging:
Why poverty is still widespread
and many of your earthlings
have gone abroad to find a loaf of bread?

Your country is really bizarre
because it is hard to tell the difference,
between hypocrites and men of religion,
between artists and street walkers,
between officers and murderers,
between bureaucrats and corrupters,
between representatives and impostors.
And you have made heartless tyrants
as your presidents?

Your country is beyond comparison.
History is written by fascists,
creativity is a taboo,
the culture lacks moralists.
law is for the regime, not for you,
and justice is a trade commodity
because truth has been put at bay.

That is your country,
a product of a fantastic play

-- By Jumari HS

-- Translated by TIS

The peace-masters

When I woke this morning,
I felt I was still dreaming,
dreaming of last night's show,
the show that gave my heart a new low.

I hear the bell, I know I wake late.
I just hope I still keep my single spirit,
the spirit to walk the long road ahead,
the road free of stones and bullets spread.

The bullets that came from the guns,
the guns used simply for fun,
the stones highly spread to counterattack,
the bullets, with no mercy hit one's back.

There are victims, falling to the ground,
there is blood, to make your face to turn around,
there are dreams, squeezed out of one's living,
like falling leaves, blown by a strong wind.

But, there is peace too, floating in the air,
ready to greet everyone who wants to be fair,
ready to make this world a heaven of insight,
if only all love each other and not fight.

What a dream of today and of tomorrow,
of a worldwide ground for mankind to grow.
If only all would play the role of peacemaker,
if only all would realize that all are the peacemakers.

-- By Inawati Adiwinata