Shinta Febriany

Shinta Febriany was born in Palopo (South Celebes) in 1979  and studied German Language and Literature at Hasanuddin University,Macassar. Her major poetry collection also bears the title I Am Not the Future (Aku Bukan Masa Depan, 2003).

aku bukan masa depan

kau boleh mencium jemariku, tapi jangan membuat penjara di sana.
ini kalimat cinta yang tiba terlambat padamu. ia melewati cuaca
yang gelap, tersendat di beberapa kenangan lalu memenuhi setiap
kepingan di tubuhku.
ini perihal debar yang tak terhindar. kita saling menebar risau.
sebelum kau menjangkau malam di hatiku, aku telah terpukau pada
kabut susu yang bercahaya di matamu.kelak jika kau mengidap
hepatitis, aku akan setia mengirim panasia buatmu.
tapi jangan menggambar rumah di telapak tanganku, aku bukan
masa depan.

makassar, april 2005 — aret 2006

I Am Not Your Future

you can kiss my fingertips but don’t make them into a prison.
this sentence will be late. it has had to travel through the darkness and been blocked by some old memories which were caught in various places in my body.
it is about the unavoidable excitement we felt. we were both nervous.
before you tried to touch the night in my heart, I was stunned by the milky mist shining in your eyes. if you catch hepatitis, I promise to send you a panacea.
but don’t draw a house on the palm of my hand. I am not your future.

Macassar, April 2005 — March 2006.
 

Cok Sawitri

Cok Sawitri was born in Bali in 1968. Her poetry has been widely anthologised, both in Indonesia and abroad. She also writes extensively for the stage.

dan nyatakanlah cinta ….

dan nyatakanlah cinta dengan bahasa tak sempurna
aku kan tertawa karena seketika menjadi orang tak biasa
menjadi orang yang tak biasanya ….
hah!
dan dengan kata tak sempurna, cinta menujumku
terjaga di tenngah malam, menyepidi tengah keramaian
merasa dada penuh ingatan akan dirimu
ola la la ….
tahukah, bahkan untuk tanya yang sederhana
aku merasa dunia tengah menindasku
hah! cinta menujumku menjadi manusia penolak dunia
dan nyatakanlah cinta dengan bahasa tak sempurna
dengan gagah aku menentang dunia
lihatlah, malam tidak lagi membuatku terpejam, siang tak lagi
membuatku bekerja
pikiranku asyik melukis seluruh rasa dada
mata redup tanpa cahaya
dunia tak berarti apa-apa
kutolak dunia karena cinta
sebab kaunyatakan cinta dengan bahasa yang tak sempurna
aku kini manusia yang tak biasa
 

Speak to Me of Love

when you speak to me of love, though your words be imperfect,
I will laugh because I feel strange
I will become someone strange …
hah!
though your words be imperfect, love will ensure
that I will be awake in the middle of the night, alone in a crowd,
my heart will be filled with memories of you
ola la la …..
do you know, the world will oppress me
when it asks even the simplest questions
hah! love will ensure that I don’t care about the world
when you speak to me of love, though your words be imperfect,
I will reject the world
you will see, the night won’t make me want to close my eyes,
day won’t make me want to work
my mind will be busy painting my feelings
my eyes will be dull, empty of light,
the world will mean nothing to me
I will reject the world because of love
because you will speak to me of love, though your words be imperfect,
I am already someone strange
 
 

Putu Vivi Lestari

Putu Vivi Lestari was born in Bali in 1981 and holds degrees in Economics and Management from Udayana University, Den Pasar.

Keresahan yang Terabaikan

            Mungkin setia
            mungkin kesucian
                        perawan
                        masa lalu
                        hari ini
                        usia  
Bologna
kota yang sendiri
dilingkar
            urai tubuh
La dotta
            yang tersepuh
Langit merah
mengirim tahun-tahun
            keramat
saat satuan warna
            merintih
garis perawanku
            terkoyak
(teknik cawi
            dan abur
mengabarkan sakit sejarah)
bukan di tamn firdaus
atau celah langit
            yang retak
tapi  di antara
lading-ladang kering
infus tertebar
ampul-ampul kosong
dan angin mengabarkan
mioma!
Mungkin kesucian …
tapi tak ada setia
menjaga piazza
            dengan menara miringnya
tak ada setia
Arjuna
pada Drupadi
            atau Supraba
Ah, Bologna
kota yang sendiri
            dengan sepoi
                        melankolis Neptune
mengajakku
            bersijingkat
di abad lewat
(kala chanel coco
mengusik mimpi
musim kawin)
Mungkin setia …
mungkin kesucian …
            menanak
gelimpangan norma
pada kompor
            lap debu
            pakaian kotor
yang mesti kuadonkan
            dengan selada
            tomat
dan sampinyon hijau
agar tak ada jelujur
            lepas
tak ada sisir yang patah
Senja jatuh
untuk kesekian kalinya
tualangku
            terabaikan
“Jadilah petang
dan jadilah pagi”, seru-Nya
yang tersalibkan
            di Betania
Tapi rahim
            luka
            mengerang
matahari rombeng
Perawan
masa lalu
hari ini
usai

Restlessness Ignored

            Perhaps the faithfulness
            perhaps the purity
                        of yesterday’s
                        virgin
                        are dead
                        today
Bologna
stands alone
encircled
            by scattered corpses
the gilded
            La dotta
The red sky
dispersing
            sacred time
all colours in one

moaned
when my hymen
            broke
(pecked open
            a bird flew into air
announcing
            history’s pain)
not in Eden
or on the shattered
            distant horizon
but between
the dry fields
the spreading infusion
empty ampoules
and the wind announced
mioma!
Perhaps purity …
nothing is faithful
            in the piazza
            with its leaning bell-towers
no one is faithful
Arjuna
betrayed Drupadi
            and Supraba
Ah, Bologna,
standing alone
            in Neptune’s melancholy
                        breezes
invites me
to tiptoe
through the centuries
(when chanel coco
stirred memories
of marriage)
Perhaps faithfulness …
perhaps purity …
            roast
sprawling norms
on the stove
            tea-towels
            dirty clothes
I will serve them
            with tomato salad
and green champignons
so that
not one stitch

will be lost
not one tooth in the comb broken
Twilight fell
yet again
my adventures
            were ignored:
“Let there be evening
and let there be morning”
proclaimed the One
            crucified
            in Bethany
The bleeding womb
            groaned
the sun lay in tatters
yesterday’s
virgin
is dead
today

Toeti Heraty

Toeti Heraty (born 1933) is one of Indonesia’s most respected poets and anthologists. She is also Professor of Philosophy at the University of Indonesia, with a special interest in Feminism, and former Rector of the Jakarta Academy of the Arts.

Unta

Ia tegak menyendiri, dan ternyata pemerhati seni
pada pembukaan pameran di galeri
lalu kuhampiri, katanya:
            — ini semua hasil perjuangan Anda sendiri
            — dan lutut kanan agak sakit-sakitan
Langsung malam itu kuundang dengan lainnnya
Langsung kutawarkan menginap di Rancamaya
karena tak dapat hotel berlibur dengan anak dan istri
Kira-kira sekitar bom meledak di Marriott
ia sudah jadi konsultan part-time
di kantor yang dikelola berdua:
            oleh ibu dan puteri
Barangkali ia berfikir siapa paling efektif
didekati, memang ia minta diundang
            ke kantor dan meramal
            bencana lantai rontok bisa terjadi

Renungan tentang konflik antar generasi:
antara bapak dan putera lazim terjadi
karena otoritas dan identifikasi
            — tapikalau perempuan menggeluti profesi
            konflik diperuncing tuduhan: ibu menjerumuskannya
            jadi perempuan
Yang tertuduh ibu, lalu suami, ini kali burung unta —
yang tidak melihat ada unta mendekat
            — kebun binatang lengkaplah sudah
            akhirnya telur burung unta
diperoleh jauh di Capetown, Afrika

Salah siapa, bila ia berkunjung larut malam
bila pamit selalumencium rapat di bibir
sambil meraba beha di punggung
            — suatu kontradiksi
memegang tasbih, mengajak sekaligus naik haji
lalu apa yang terjadi:
            —penasaran satu kali kutantang kencan dan
            naik haji gagal, tidak jadi
Tahun ini menghadap Lebaran
dan tahun lalu bencana keluarga
            — lantai rontk tidak jadi
            tapi masalh melibatkan pengadilan dan polisi
            — tahun prahara dengan saudara-saudara
yang tidak tahu diri
Semua ini tidak terduga, meski ada
ketegangan-ketegangan lama
Yang diperlukan kini adalah kebesaran hati
kelapangan dada dan terserah dituruti atau tidak
            nasehat-nasehat agama
dan masih ada cinta di antara kita.

London, Oktober 2005.

The Camel

He was standing alone at the opening of the exhibition,
obviously an art lover,
when I approached him, he said:
            “you’ve worked hard for this”
            “my right knee is rather sore”
That night I invited him to come with the others
Later I invited him to visit Rancamaya[1]
because he couldn’t afford a holiday
at a hotel with his wife and children
By the time of the Marriott bombing[2]
he was a part-time consultant
at our office run by two women —
             mother and daughter
Perhaps he wasn’t sure
whom best to court, so he asked to come
to the office, and predicted trouble:
            the floor could collapse at any time
When we think about conflict between generations:
usually about fathers and sons —
it has to do with problems of authority and identity,
            but when a woman is the head of office
            conflict is intensified by the accusation:
            it was her mother’s fault
            that she was born a woman
She accused her mother, then her husband, the Ostrich,
who didn’t see the Camel approaching
            “the zoo is complete now,
            with an Ostrich egg,
all the way from Cape Town, South Africa”
No one was to blame, when he came late at night,
he would kiss me on the lips before leaving
and play with the back of my bra
            — what a contradiction —
with his prayer-beads in his hand, inviting me
            to come on the pilgrimage to Mecca
and what happened next
            intrigued, I challenged him to a date
and the pilgrimage
            dropped out of sight
This year the Fasting Month looms,
last year was a family calamity
            “the office floor didn’t fall in
            but we had problems with the court
            and the police”
            “a difficult year, when
            brothers and sisters
forgot to behave themselves
It was unexpected, although
there were tensions, undercurrents —
we need to be generous,
forgive and forget, live a moral life
or not, we are one family,
after all.

[1] An exclusive “golf and country estate”, located 55 kilometres south of Jakarta.

[2] At 11.58 a.m. on 5 August 2003, a car bomb exploded outside the lobby of the Hotel Marriott in South Jakarta, killing twelve people and injuring 150, all but one Indonesian nationals.