One

I translate my body into yours into your hair I translate mine if your hand can not touch mine I translate my hand into yours if your tongue can not taste mine I translate my tongue into yours I translate my fingers into yours if your fingers can not pluck mine into your blood. I translate my blood if your blood can not taste mine if your intestine can not digest mine I translate my intestine into yours if your sex is unable to touch mine I translate mine into yours

our flesh, our souls are one though we may be far the wound in you bleeds from me

-- Sutardji Calzoum Bachri

Translated by John H. McGlynn

(Taken from Managerie 2 by courtesy of the Lontar Foundation)

About that Man Killed Sometime around Election Day

"Dear God, give to me Your voice"

The silence was the silence that followed the dog's howl when the watchmen found the corpse beside the dike. Face down, as if seeking the paddy's fragrant warmth. but beneath the moonlight the acrid smell and the man's cold cheeks were strange.

Then others came -- with flashlights, torches and fireflies -- but no one recognized him. He's not from around here, the watchman said.

"Give to me Your voice."

Beneath the lantern in the ward office they discovered the gaping wounds. Shadows swayed rapidly; the veranda was flush with whispers. The man had no identity card. He had no name.

No party affiliation. No party symbol. He had no one to cry for him because we could not cry. What could his religion be?

"Noble Cartographer, were is my homeland?"

The day after next they read about it on the first page of the paper. And there was a person who cried with no one knowing why. And a person who didn't cry with no one knowing why. And a tired boy who fashioned a hat from the morning paper, that was later stolen by the wind. Look! See the kites pasted to the sky, resting on the breeze. And the flock of evening birds alighting on the wires, as the cranes flee towards twilight's end, crossing the barren field and long streaks of color, like dissipating smoke.

"Dear God, give to me Your voice"

-- Goenawan Mohamad

Translated by John H. McGlynn

(Taken from Menagerie 2 by the courtesy of The Lontar Foundation, Jakarta)