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ANWAR, Chairil



Aku




Me


If my time should come

I'd like no one to entice me

Not even you


No need for those sobs and cries


I am but a wild animal

Cut from its kind


Though bullets should pierce my skin

I shall still strike and march forth


Wounds and poison shall I take aflee

Aflee

'Til the pain and pang should dissapear


And I should care even less


I want to live for another thousand years


Vertaling: Urip Hudiono


Ik


Als mijn tijd gekomen is

wil ik van niemand rouw

Ook niet van jou


Niks geen gesnik en gesnotter


Ik ben een eenling geworden

Uitgestoten uit de horde


Laat kogels mijn huid doorboren

Ik blijf tekeergaan en schoppen


Wonden en gif voer ik mee op mijn vlucht

Vlucht

Tot de schrijnende pijn zal verdwijnen


En ik zal er nog minder om geven


Ik wil nog duizend jaar leven


Vertaling: A. Teeuw




No, Woman!


No, woman! What lives in me

still easily evades your fevered and dark embrace,

intent on finding the greenness of another sea,

to be again on the ship where we first met,

surrendering the rudder to the wind,

our eyes fixed on waiting stars.

Something flapping its wings, again conveys

Tai Po and the secret of the Ambonese Sea.

Such is woman! A single vague line

is all I can write

in my flight towards her enigmatic smile.



Announcement


To dictate is not my intent,

Fate is separate loneliness-es.

I choose you from among the rest, but

in a moment we are snared by loneliness once more.

There was a time I truly wanted you,

to be as children in crowning darkness,

and we kissed and fondled, not tiring.

I did not want to ever let you go.

Do not unite your life with mine,

for I cannot be with anyone for very long

I write now on a ship, in some nameless sea.



Pines in the Distance


Pines scatter in the distance,

as day becomes night,

branches slap weakly at the window,

pushed by a sultry wind.


I’m now a person who can survive,

so long ago I left childhood behind,

though once there was something,

that now counts for nothing at all.


Life is but postponement of defeat,

a growing estrangement from youth’s unfettered love

a knowing there’s always something left unsaid,

before we finally acquiesce.