Cecep Syamsul Hari
As a poet writing in Indonesian, Cecep Syamsul Hari first came to national prominence with his 1996 collection Kenang-kenangan (Remembrance), followed in 2002 with Efrosina (Euphrosyne), reprinted in 2005.
His works have been published in international journals and literary magazines, such as: PLAV (Prague, 2010), Orientierungen (Bonn, 2006), Wasafiri (London, 2003), Heat (Sydney, 1999). He is one of only six Indonesian poets whose poems have been included in (2008) Norton poetry anthology, Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia and Beyond. He is the only Indonesian poet who has been included in (2008) World Poetry Almanac.
Apart from his poetry and literary essays, he has published in Indonesian in the newer genre of ficto-criticism novel (2006), Soska.
He has been a prolific translator of literary works into Indonesian, with book publications of selected works by Pablo Neruda (1996), D.J. Enright (1996), R.K. Narayan (2002). He also translated Summarized Sahih Al-Bukhari (first edition 2007, reprinted almost every years since then), 100 Hungarian poems (2009), etc.
He was Writer-in-Residence in Korea Literature Translation Institute (KLTI), South Korea (2006), Rimbun Dahan Arts Residency, Malaysia (2007), Hungarian Translators House, Hungary (2009), Bundanon Trust Artists Center, Australia (2009).
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His works have been published in international journals and literary magazines, such as: PLAV (Prague, 2010), Orientierungen (Bonn, 2006), Wasafiri (London, 2003), Heat (Sydney, 1999). He is one of only six Indonesian poets whose poems have been included in (2008) Norton poetry anthology, Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia and Beyond. He is the only Indonesian poet who has been included in (2008) World Poetry Almanac.
Apart from his poetry and literary essays, he has published in Indonesian in the newer genre of ficto-criticism novel (2006), Soska.
He has been a prolific translator of literary works into Indonesian, with book publications of selected works by Pablo Neruda (1996), D.J. Enright (1996), R.K. Narayan (2002). He also translated Summarized Sahih Al-Bukhari (first edition 2007, reprinted almost every years since then), 100 Hungarian poems (2009), etc.
He was Writer-in-Residence in Korea Literature Translation Institute (KLTI), South Korea (2006), Rimbun Dahan Arts Residency, Malaysia (2007), Hungarian Translators House, Hungary (2009), Bundanon Trust Artists Center, Australia (2009).
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Poet, writer, translator, editor of HORISON monthly literary magazine.Interests
Poetry, Creative writing, East spiritualism, Sufism, Religious thought, Opera, Classical music, the Beatles, Nina Simone, movies, cooking, traveling, tea.Motto
The life and death of a poet is intimately related to words. Words are spirit and miracles.
Displaying Results 1 - 129 (of 129) for All Content
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I WAKE UP SLOWLY in SEOUL CITYWeekend is the celebration days in Seoul and other big cities in South Korea. Every weekend nights you will see people anywhere, usually at pubs, karaoke (durepang), family restaurants, and famous streets, such as Insa-dong and Dong-daemun. -
SADNESS and GENDER DOMINATIONMoon perceives matrimony as an empty world, akin to feelings experienced by Sue, a character in Jude the Obscure, Thomas Hardy's last novel, which focused on the themes of sex and marriage. It is also a melancholy and an unhappiness world for her.
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POETRY and the QUALITY of IMAGINATIONImagination is not a dream or fantasy like what been misunderstood by some of us. Even though basically human being has imagination, not all knowing it, even knowing it, not all using it. Poets have the ability to imagine and using it.
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READING the FLOWER of HUMANISMNow we are going to see how the elementary forces shape and give life the poem of one of outstanding Korean poets, Chon Hyon-jong. What the "elementary forces" mean here will be focused to the mind and the temper of the poet.
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ON the SNOW FALLING on CHAGALL'S VILLAGEHere and there, in the book full of flowers - some are tangible and some growth from the hearth - we meet the poet himself as the messenger of the nobleness of love.
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ON SONGS of the KISAENGThe gender discourse keep on as one of main issues in philosophy and literature. Here, we are going to discuss the phenomena on the literary perspective. It's about female poets of the kisaeng, the momentous phenomenon in Korean history.
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WE MUST OURSELVES BE in SOME DEGREE PHILOSOPHERSBertrand Russell (1872-1970) was the eminent philosopher, mathematician, and social reformer. He published his most important philosophical and mathematical work, The Principle of Mathematics (1903). In 1950 he received the Nobel Prize of Literature.
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THE INTERPRETER of THINGSBorn in Alessandria, Italy, in 1932, Umberto Eco has been well-known as semiotician, medievalist, philosopher, novelist and essayist. His outstanding novels are The Name of the Rose, Foucault's Pendulum, The Island of the Day Before, and Baudolino.
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COUNTRY of LIGHTSIn my country, blood is not always red. And fists could be more solid than rocks. The sun sometimes is green. People walk without head.
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I'LL BE BACK to YOUMy wife, you're my departure and my entrance, you're my rejoice and my homeland.
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AT the YELLOW SEAAt the Yellow Sea the twilight sun and the death are silently waiting...
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JEJUI am sitting at Fantasia Cafe, drinking a cup of black-tea. The old age is like the fence in front of me.
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REQUIEM for an EMBRACEIn the glorious of memories the lovers are cursed to forget, the poets are fated to commemorate...
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ALASTU BIRABBIKUMVan Gogh called you true love who for eternity I immortalize in the sorrow of poetry.
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FOR ANGELANo morning without the song of birds, hum of wind and ancient air, in Rimbun Dahan...
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SAMSON'S POEMMay be they saw the angels back to heavens. May be they saw the demons lively wander about. May be they just cleaning their throats...
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AT the ART MARKETThey grumbled about rupiahs that getting weak, police patrol and land overseas to be subjected, detained passport and a bit of ringgits left in the pocket.
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CHERONThe sound of that grass cutter machine wailing weirdly, hoarse and monotone...
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AT HUSIN'S STUDIOAfter a hundred years of repent and forswear, in Jabal Rahmah Adam met Eve. Tears of a couple of lovers, changed grainy sands into the sea of precious stones.
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MUHARAM HAS COMEThey invite Attar and Khayam, Lipo and Po-Chui, Goethe and Sa'di, read the verses about dew and river, love and wine, released soul and paradise.
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SECRET of the RAINThe Angel Michael keeps a piece of his wings, clearer than the lake of dew, whiter than the river of light...
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ESCORTING SARAWUT BACK HOMEHe is a faithfull devotee of Buddha's way...
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WATER LILYShe worships you a glisten light, never be anxious about the dusk comes...
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CHINA TOWNIn China Town I felt like at home...
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IDUL ADHA'S EVEPrayer houses recited of laudation without a loud speaker in Kuang Street...
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THE TREE BOULEVARDVanishing the boundary between me and heavens, this ground itself is also my body...
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YOU and IHere I am, a poor interpreter...
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LEELee, from where you come?
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MERSAWA LEAVESKoi fishes in a corner of pond just like the assemblage of hermits...
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GYEONGJU, EARLY in the MORNINGFor every departures there is only one entrance: to the old house in the distance, to your shiny face in my mind.
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ON the RIVER SIDE of HANOn the river side of Han, boats are motionless waiting. My life is nothing for the life time of the stream...
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SPRING SONGThe solitary of yellow kaenari and purple agi-jindalle convey me to the paleness of your face...
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BEFORE DINNERLike Peter Pan, Tom Sawyer or Bimbilimbica, we waited for birthday presents, not just from our well-fed aunts and uncles. But also from our imaginary friends, God, soldiers with their mouths full of bread, two geraniums, three muses...
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THE RAIN FELL in WONOKROMOThere were still two stations to go. After that life would find its own path. "Because life is like butterfly", Nana Moskouri once said.
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THE LAND of a THOUSAND FAIRIESA small girl read a story book. Thousands of fairies sat around her. As they laughed mysteriously she built houses from her dreams.
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FINDING a LONELY LANDA baby cried in a distant room, more gentle than any sound...
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MY BRIDEOn the day of creation, I decided that she would be my bride. I never stopped looking for her, even though I knew she flowed in my blood...
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DANCERHave you ever seen the ocean flowing in fire?
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TWILIGHTTwilight comes and goes in the corner of the yard. In every step left by the light, I find the secret of your smile, old postcards, and lots of letters to the same address.
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NOVEMBER RAINNothing remained now, on the table where we ate last night, except the small kisses I placed on your ears. I melted, because the memories which had been frozen for many years, spoke out their uncertainty.
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GOING HOMEGoing home in the rain...
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A PLACE I REMEMBERLike the wings of Attar's birds, we stop somewhere and burnt. Allowing the pain to return to silence.
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SOLITUDE BURNING in MY MEMORIESAll I recall are your dancing tears. The endless journey forced me to build various homes in my mind...
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THE BURNING WINGS of MEMORIESThe wind took the letter to Eastern land far away; a place of wine and sunlight, poetry and hard night, beating in the heart of Li Po and Sa'di.
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FOUR MILES from MEMORYIt is dawn, why is everyone in such a hurry?
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FOR CENTURIES I REMEMBER YOUR SMILEThis world is born from eternal love. But your secrets are never revealed...
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YOUR HAIR is MY PRAYER MATTwo thousands later Prometheus is born in the Declaration of the Human Rights...
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A STOPPING PLACE on the WAYLike Abraham and Hagar, we must get up quickly and pack. Prepare to be His eternal guests on this endless journey.
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THE LAST EPISODE of MISERYNo window is strong enough to separate the world of your dreams from this wounded world. Mankind is a collection of memories and desires. A creature made half from myth and half from reality.
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THE WEDDING SONGIn the morning, you drank sweet black tea and smiled. A simple lesson for a different life: This is not Never-Never Land...
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IN WONDERLAND"But you don't care. I must find Alice! Alice!"...
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FOR SENTIMENTAL REASONSThat night, you wrote lots of letters, and quickly hid them again in your soul.
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A VOICE from the REMOTE HEAVENSIn this old world I play my role perfectly: I am a blind man walking with an unlit lamp.
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LAND of the FALLING LEAVESTagore, Tagore, dragons no longer live in lakes. Perhaps long ago, The Little Prince died in some distant corner of this tiny world.
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AN OBITUARY for the WINDPoetry is destroyed by the washing machine!
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BATHROOM WINDOWA painting fell into the wash basin...
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A STEP AWAY from YOUR EYES"I am Sinbad. I conquered world of fairy tales, and fought all the pirates!" I shouted at the door, the wall of the bedroom and your curly hair.
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WHEN YOU LONG for the BIRDS"Simorgh" , you shouted at the sky, "Have they reached your old house?"
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THE WORLD of FAIRY TALESSuddenly we are no longer children hanging on the telephone wires, playing weddings, and your cheeks are covered with powder. No, we are husband and wife, we only see flowers at the movies and you find it hard to cry.
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A POEM ABOUT a ROSEA garden where there are no dragons, no flies, bees or birds...
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EDELWEISS"Edelweiss!" the climbers shouted many centuries later...
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FALLING MEMORIESThe plane sails along like a battleship and drops into a narrow river (forming a strangely shaped raft) from long ago. You remember a girl with long waving hair, who used to run and sometimes stopped beside the river; throwing rocks the size of marbles...
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IN the PALM of YOUR HANDHe regretted his past faithfulness which he had foolishly and uselessly given to someone else...
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AT the END of the BRIDGETeach me again to understand the heart which always gives but never wants to reveal itself...
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PORTRAITThe shining waves sparkling in the sunlight wanted to tell you something. In the sky, a wandering bird rushed to the land of wounds...
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THE BIRDS TOLD YOUR GRIEFBecause you refused to play with the fireflies the morning was restless outside your lonely door...
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MORNING DEWLook at me as if I were the morning dew which vanishes in the light of your eyes...
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A POEM ABOUT a GARDENAs I enter the garden of your soul, thousands of butterflies rise and become silence and poetry...
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INFINITE SOLITUDEIn my mother's womb I promised to love the land, then I opened the gateway to light...
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INFINITE SILENCEWalking across the bridge of your smile...
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THE HIDDEN SADNESSThe traveler has grown old through worrying and longs to see your face again to wipe away the hidden sadness...
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THE JOURNEY of the WINDTwo ants were trapped at the bottom of the cup. I could smell the pamphlets and mosquito repellent crowded together with cigarette smoke in the room...
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A CONVERSATION BETWEEN a BLADE of GRASS and a PASSING BIRDThat is true. I am happy waiting in my misery.
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AN EPITAPH for a LEAFLove always forgives...
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LIKE the WINDDon't go. Because...
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A FLOWER FELLThe dew bowed his head. Sighed to the wet earth. "She is not here".
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RAIN in the GARDENBut, who believes in tomorrow?
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JAKA TARUBEven though carnations grew in the middle of it. Tinged with yellow. Like the twilight. They were like princesses lost in the forest.
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THE GARDENBut I am not the prince who will come, riding on the wind, kiss your forehead, wake you up, bring you back to my castle at the foot of the hill.
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CHILDHOODFor some reason my memory sped far back into my childhood. Stopped at a small chapel. The chapel had no name...
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A GARDEN in MY HEARTA garden which turns into centuries...
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WITH the BIRDSIn my hands wounds turn into love stories...
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BLUE MOONLong ago when you were very young, you remember how much the moon hurt you.
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SILENCE in the GARDEN of NAMESSilence walks in the garden of names, his heart is broken but he will not stop loving you!
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THE WOUNDED BIRDMother, tell me about a distant country where the good fairies live...
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IN YOUR SILENCEThe darkness of words...
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THE RAIN PRAYSThe mosques let the night silence...
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MORNING HAS BROKENThe Greatest Clown of All-see! Even in this sorrow he is never angry.
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THE WIDE PATHI drowned in the river of time and waited to return in the rain...
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I AM the SILENCEI am silence floating in the river of time. I let the current bring me to the embrace of the ocean...
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TWO FALLING LEAVESWe read dozens of poems written on the wind before we finally reach our eternal home.
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MY SWEET LORDYou are the lonely coral on a silent beach.
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ZULHIJAHWhen I was small I wanted to be the axe you used to destroy the idols...
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INTO YOUR EYESI did not want to seek refuge in your holy scriptures...
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SWANI was lost in your garden...
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NEWS from the SEAWhere did the morning go?
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NEWS from the WINDAngels took off their wings...
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THE EARTH and a WANDERERA wanderer eagerly staring at the sky, the horizon filled with naked leaves...
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BEGINNING with a BOWDo you know the road that never ends? Extinguish the flames of your doubt. You do not need the water of the forest. Follow the rhythm of your restlessness...
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THE DOORThe angels boil water in the pot of night...
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PRAYERFinding David's legacy in each verse of the Psalms, the Torah, the Gospels, the Koran, the world to come...
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MY BELOVEDFarewell to the waves, go back to where you came from, humble clay, where the angels play guarding Mary's garden.
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THE LEAVES ASKEDYou who bravely tore the sky apart and told me of your victory...
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MEMORIESDistant silence. A slice of moon.
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A STORY BEFORE SLEEPINGEvery time you hug me or laugh I live again. Every night I arrange my lonely teardrops and my broken wounds into a beautiful poem where you can sleep forever...
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A POEM BEFORE TWILIGHTMy friend used to be an activist. His faithful wife waited for him night after night. She became mature through sorrow and in tears...
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A POEM of the RAINI can imagine you sitting in a rocking chair forty years from now. Reading the works of a poet. He wrote them when he was very young...
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A POEM of the NEW YEARNo, I will not say goodbye. I will not forget you or think that our meeting was a happenstance. Pretty words and kisses...
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THE POEM of the VEILForgive me kissing the perfume at the edge of your veil. Night has cursed me to become a restless lover.
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VERANDAI washed away the summer dust in your hair with my tears in the morning.
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HOSTELThe night was like the restlessness of a shy young Balinese woman.
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THE MENUOn the stage, a women shouted: "New York! New York!" Was she Liza Minelli?
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MORNING SORROWOn the plate of dry toast I smelled the butter of your body...
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AT the CEMETERYA poem for my late beloved mother.
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MOLTO ALLEGRO"Are you really tired of being a man?" she whispered, as lightly as the air in the room itself.
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FIVE SKETCHES for FRANCISCO JOSE DE GOYA Y LUCIENTESBecause they were deaf and I was dumb they could not hear me screaming. They shouted: Burn the shop! Burn it! Did they think I was Abraham...
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GERTAK MERAH"You must come to Padi Street, to my lonely house, it is more silent than dreams and the beach".
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WOODEN TABLEFull of faith, Faust was not prepared for the smile of a young girl, a bombastic leader, a friend who hid a wolf in his chest, for no particular reason.
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EUPHROSYNEI was so alone, my head pressed against a table, my soul was tortured.
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THE FACE of the LEAVES"Here", you once said, "Love lives between the silence of the cross and the sickle moon".
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THE LAST THING I REMEMBERWhen time stopped, I remembered your dancing tears: The twilight was unforgettable. And love was welcomed with thousands of names.
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A LIGHT RAINThe sin was so sweet on my tongue, it was like eating the apple in the garden of Eden.
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A POEM of SORROWThe life and death of a poet is intimately related to words. Words are spirit and miracles; joy and sorrow.
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A POEM of MELANCHOLYMy whole sadness begin here. At the end of your sharp hair. The morning fog of your eyes, a glass marquise syrup and the love I smell in your lonely breath.
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IDAOnly the smell of your hair can build silent rooms in my heart.
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IKEBANAHe arranged the ferns, the red roses, and the gladioli at three o'clock in the morning, wasn't that insane?
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ANNENo, like love, miracles belonged to everyone, even to the demonstrator who vanished down the road with his face still held in the air.
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32 VARIATIONS on C MINOROf course, they are still so young, and they leave the hotel with a light tread and happy smiles. I smile too, tell you something trivial, feeling like a nervous refugee, exiled from his own country...
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REMEMBRANCEHow can I tell you, I fell in love with your eyes, over and over again. They were like lakes in a forest in some distant wonderland...




