On Strike

What you're struggling for

among the dust, polluted air and roasted roads

is a rebellion of restless stomachs and hungry mouths.

What you're cheering loudly

in the vacuum air

Are the cries of your children demanding a torn,

small toy to repair.

What you'll get from the marching

under the hot, shining sun

is a bruised wound on your chest

and you'll have to run

leaving your work undone.

Juleha, Go Home, Juleha

At the time you departed

you left the fragrance of your dreams.

The last step you left behind

woke your children and made them cry.

Juleha, go home, Juleha!

What kind of dream are you trying to make up

What kind of life are you trying to set up

Your children are crying

Missing your love.

Juleha, go home, Juleha!

Your kind gifts:

money and necklaces

Your strong promise:

to go home and bring happiness

never fulfills your children's wish.

Juleha, go home, Juleha!

-- By M. Yumarnamto