Ketika pertama kali menatapmu, kulihat cahaya senja berpendar dari tengah laut. Lalu fragmen-fragmen cerita kita dimainkan debur ombak yang menggulung pasir dan bebatuan. Kulihat kita berbaring memandang langit jingga itu tanpa sepatah kata. Debur ombak, suara camar, dan lambaian pohon-pohon kelapa mengelu-elukan kau. Kudengar pula nafasmu menyambung nafasku. Dan tautan nafas kitalah yang melepas perahu nelayan untuk berlayar ke laut lepas. Beserta diri kita. Lin, semisal kau cemaskan laut yang sedemikian luas, cukup kau tatap aku dan temukan daratan kecil buat kau berlabuh disana.

 

Disenyummu, Lin, kutemukan tempat tidur untuk menanam mimpi-mimpi paling muskil sekalipun. Aku sang petani mimpi dan senyummu adalah lingkup yang merawat semuanya. Hingga nanti dan setelah musim panen tiba, tetaplah kau setia menunggu mimpi untuk menjadi kenyataan yang siap dipetik. Karena aku selalu percaya hanya ada satu musim di setiap tawamu. Untuk itu, meski hanya mimpi yang dapat kupercayakan padamu, simpan dan rawatlah, karena mereka adalah sebagian diriku.

Lin, kau mesti tahu gerimis yang mengantarkanmu sore itu datang dari mimpi masa laluku. Kusimpan gerimis itu, hingga kini reda dan kau pun berdiri dihadapanku. Lembayung senja yang mengantarkanmu pun tak kan salah menuturkan gerimis. Cukupilah dengan percaya apa yang dituturkan gerimis kepada kita.

Pada suatu masa nanti, gerimis pula-lah yang akan mempertemukan kita kembali.

2015 

                                                                                                                                         --H.C Andersen



Malam di ujung tahun; dingin terakhir
Angin bersiulan di lubang dinding kamar selepas aku pergi
Langkahku mulai memasuki gang dan salju-salju membeku di telapak kakiku
 oleh rasa lapar
Kunang-kunang bertebangan di kedua mataku
Aku terus berjalan, dan salju masih berjatuhan

Sesampaiku di ujung gang, jalan-jalan semakin menikam
Para gelandangan memainkan gigil di gigi mereka
Seakan gigi-gigi mereka adalah tuts piano yang melengkingkan kesakitan
Dan angin adalah pisau kecil yang menyanyat tulang
lalu aku, menyalakan nyala api pertama

*
Nyala pertama menumbuhkan asa dalam ketiadaan diriku
                                                                                 dalam mimpiku
tungku perapian, kursi usia tua, jam usia, serta kaus kaki dengan lubang mata
aku menunggui malam hingga sesampainya di usia senja
dan semuanya pun padam, dalam gelap tiada

**
Di nyala kedua, sebuah drama dimainkan
Seorang putri salju terbaring dalam rindu
Hatinya konon bertebaran menjelma salju
Dan seorang pangeran berdiri di depan pintu
Menjulurkan lidahnya untuk merasakan dinginya
                                                                               Rindu
Lalu salju pun meluber dalam lidah sendu
Tirai panggungpun menutup kisah sendu itu, begitu pula apiku

***
Pohon natal, seribu lilin, debu-debu putih yang membakar ingatan
Nyala ketiga serupa lelatu keluar dari jendela rumah-rumah
Dan aku masih terduduk di seberang trotoar
Merekayasa setiap keriangan yang terlihat di rumah-rumah
Seakan aku ikut didalamnya
Namun api segera membakar jariku dan aku tersadar ada jarak yang asing
Antara nestapa dan kebahagiaan yang tak dapat kulintasi

****
Seseorang sedang sekarat
Matanya mengaburkan kenyataan yang terlihat, menjadi sebuah remang
Dalam rumah yang diselimuti kegelapan
Lalu tiba-tiba dari pintu depan, cahaya yang begitu terang menyingkap gelap
Uluran tangan menariknya ke, kematian. Begitulah
Di nyala keempat, setiap bintang yang jatuh, sebuah jiwa akan naik ke langit malam.

2015



*Gambar diambil dari http://www.worksoppriory.info/blogs/y6/wp-content/uploads/sites/9/2015/01/JohnstoneTheLittleMatchGirl_08a.jpg

Ubud Writer And Reader Festival this year held from October 28 -  November 1. The event celebrate the theme 17,000 Islands of Imagination in which it's also become the theme for Frankfurt Book Fair (to be held mid-October) for this year’s Guest of Honour Nation, Indonesia. For some of you who do not familiar about this event, you can play the video above.

Dalam dunia kesusteraan, khususnya khazanah perpuisian, seringkali disebutkan mengenai penyair-penyair yang sudah “mapan” menemukan cara berbicara mereka setelah perjuangan dan pelatihan bertahun-tahun. Semisal, ketika kita membaca juvenilia—puisi paling mula dari Sylvia Plath, kita akan mendiskreditkannya karena, seperti kebayakan kritikus sastra utarakan: “Dia belum menemukan cara berbicaranya sendiri.” Kita juga akan menemukan pendapat yang sama ketika membaca karya-karya awal dari penyair seperti Theodore Roetgke dan James Wright yang mana, seperti Plath, menulis puisi formal sebelum beralih ke puisi bebas selama masa kepenyairan mereka. Pada kenyataannya, lebih sulit “bersuara” alami dalam berpuisi jika kita memakai sajak dan matra, yang dibuat dengan sembarangan, dapat bersuara artificial atau ornamental. Namun, hal tersebut tidaklah terjadi pada kasus Plath, Roethke dan Wright. Ketika mereka matang sebagai penyair, mereka mulai menulis tentang orang-orang dan topik yang sepenuhnya yang ada disekitar mereka, untuk menyampaikan kebenaran-kebenaran yang kompleks.

Dalam bukunya—The Art and Craft of Poetry, Michael Bugeja lewat pertemuannya dengan penyair Amerika—Bruce Weigl, yang mana mempengaruhi proses kepenyairannya di kemudian hari, menyarankan kepada penyair muda untuk; Menggunakan suara yang sesuai.

Semisal saja, saya duduk di dalam kelas sebuah sekolah. Seorang guru, lalu, mulai menyampaikan materi pelajaran. Pada saat sang guru mulai memasuki kelas, kita, disadari ataupun tidak, sudah mengenakan topeng seorang murid. Dan jika guru tersebut ternyata adalah ibu saya sendiri, ketika pulang ke rumah saya pun akan berganti topeng seorang anak, begitupun sang guru. Inilah, topeng atau peran yang kita mainkan setiap harinya, mempengaruhi suara yang akan kita gunakan kepada orang-orang disekitar kita di tempat/situasi tertentu.

            Seseorang, misalkan saja, setiap harinya akan mengenakan beberpa topeng:

·         6:30 Kau mesti membangunkan suamimu untuk kerja—sayangnya ia orang yang temperamen. Kau akan menyentuhnya dengan lembut di pundak dan disaat itu juga kau sudah mengenakan topeng seorang istri. Kau lalu akan berbisik lembut padanya: “ayo bangun, sekarang, sayang. Waktunya untuk bangun.” Kau memerankan peran seorang istri yang bertanggung jawab dank au pun menggunakan “suara” yang sesuai dif ajar di tempat tidur.

Lebih lanjut, Michael Burgeja menyarankan pada penyair muda untuk melatih ketajaman “telinga” nya terhadap puisi-puisi kontemporer maupun klasik. Berikut akan saya kutipkan salah satu contoh yang diberikan Michael Bugeja dalam hal yang sudah saya utarakan sebelumnya;


TH E QUEEN O F HEARTS
By Christina Rossetti

How comes it, Flora, that, whenever we
Play cards together, you invariably,

However the pack parts,
Still hold the Queen of Hearts?

(Voice: suspicious, sly, questioning)

BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS !
By Walt Whitman

Beat! beat! drums! blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows — through doors — burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying; . . .
(Voice: loud, oracular, commanding)

TH E VOICE
By Thomas Hardy

Woman much missed, how you call to me , call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
Whe n you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.
(Voice: plaintive, repetitive, sad)

Namun, penilaian ini tentu saja bukan penilaian mutlak yang mesti menjadi patokan. Perbedaan interpretasi tiap pembaca tentu saja memungkinkan penilaian yang lain. Dan itu sah-sah saja. Michael Bugeja melanjutkan bahwa, yang kita butuhkan adalah mendengarkan suara yang berbeda dari setiap puisi yang kita baca. Kemudian renungkan cara bersuara penyair tersebut dan lihat apakah telah terjalin harmonisasi dengan subjek dalam puisi tersebut.

Untuk mencoba apa yang telah dijelaskan Michael Bugeja, saya akan mencoba mengaplikasikan teknik penemuan suara dalam puisi Prabu—Perahu Napas.

Perahu Napas

lelaki duduk memangku laut tiada

selain menyeberangi nasib di kejauhan

bersama angin. . .

Suara (tenang, pengharapan, perenungan)


…angin utara yang berhasil turun

membawa perasan jantung perempuan bukit

menuju arah pantai

Suara (kehilangan, penemuan kembali)



sendiri ia berbisik

merangkum masalalu

melipat bangku kosong dan cerita hantu

sementara waktu perlahan karam

merapikan angan-angan

Suara (perenungan,kesunyian,kesendirian)


bersamanya perahu napas berlayar

melampaui tubuh dan pikiran …

Suara (titik balik,penemuan kembali)


…batas diam antara lubuk dan jantung laut

yang pecah membawa ia pulang

ke tugur masa depan

Suara (penemuan kembali)


2014






*Disampaikan dalam Ngobrol Pintar (NgoPi) komunitas LACIKATA pada tanggal 26 September 2015

                                                                       ….

Death does not come when a body is too exhausted to live
Death comes, because the brilliance inside of us can only be contained for so long.
We do not die. We pass on, pass on the life burning through our throats

                                                                        .... .

Michael Lee̶ ─Pass On

Four years ago, in the month of May, I never thought that he will pass away in the age of eighty. He looks still healthy in his age, however. Walking to the farm every morning, he brought his heavy hoe with him. He used to hoe the farm and plant some vegetables plan there. He had often said to me: It’s always peaceful to be here, I can hear the music of the wind sounds like Tayub**, and I had pity on him, for these days it was something rare to see that the play of that Javanese culture. He usually sat under the tree which is in the edge of the river when the sun got higher.  From there, he could keep an eye on his farm. It was a summer season where a flock of sparrow birds attack the farm intensively. He will never let any bird to touch her plant. It was always I who sent him his lunch. I usually brought a fishing rod with me. He had taught me a great deal about fishing.

In the 22th of May, at noon, as usual, I walked to his farm to bring his lunch. I saw him sat under the tree. But there was something uncanny about him that time. When I called his name, he didn’t answer. I thought he was sleeping. As I approached his body, I saw his face was very grey and massive. There he lay, sleeping like he wouldn’t wake up anymore, I thought. For some moment, I let him sleep. Then, when I thought that he had slept long enough, I tried to wake him up. Softly I whispered in his ear. But he didn’t give an answer nor did he make any movement.

It was the third times I whispered in his ear. But, still, there was no answer or a single movement. I started to shake his body, again, and again. But, still, there was no sign of life. If he was dead, I thought, I wouldn’t feel nothing when I touch the artery of his neck, for I knew that when someone had dead, the beat of his heart would stop. Then I touched his front neck, trying to feel his heart beat. No, I wouldn’t say he was exactly . . . but there was something queer . . . at that time. I can’t feel any beat at all. Panicky, I left her body and I run as fast as I can to my house.

I returned with some men and women with me. One of them is a doctor who lived next to my house. We let the doctor to check at him.

The doctor looked at me for a while. I felt that his eyes were examining me. After looking at me, the doctor said to me “Well, the breath already went out of him. He had a beautiful death, God be praised”.

After I heard what the doctor had said, I felt my soul was rejecting the fact. He was not dead! He just looked as if he was asleep, he just looked that peaceful. But I can’t do something to change the reality. They brought his corpse to the mourning house.

 In the evening my father took me with him to visit the house of mourning. It was after sunset; but the sky looked darker than usual. My father and I entered the house, then. We walked quietly towards the open door of the dead-room. A silence took possession of the little room before all the mourners prayed for him.

That was unforgettable moment in my life, to see things like that. 

*To the memory of my grandfather

** Tayub or tayuban is typical Javanese traditional arts, especially in Central Java and East Java. Tayub is a term used by the Javanese in the art of dance accompaniment with one unit of Javanese gamelan music of percussion, kenong, kempol, suwukan gongs, trumpets, drums and angklung. In addition, the dancers Tayub usually also hummed songs or poems that contain Java as couplets wise counsels, are like the advice to foster home as well.. This art is very popular among the Java community because it looks attractive, dynamic, aesthetic and expressive.  

                                            

                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                            

--Pablo Neruda

Aku mengingatmu seperti kau di musim gugur terakhir.
Kau topi ungu dan hati yang sama.
Di kedua matamu nyala api aram-temaram menyala.
Dan kenangan-kenangan jatuh di dalam air jiwamu.

Mendekap kedua tanganku seperti sebuah tanaman yang merambat.
kenangan-kenangan mengumpulkan suaramu, yang begitu lambat dan dalam kedamaian.
Api unggun kekaguman yang mana membakar dahagaku.
Bunga bakung biru manis membelit seluruh jiwaku.

Aku merasa kedua matamu melintas, dan musim gugur menjauh.
topi ungu, suara seekor burung, hati seperti sebuah rumah.
untuk kerinduan-kerinduanku yang dalam berpindah.
dan ciuman-ciumanku rubuh, bahagia seperti bara-bara api.

Langit dari sebuah kapal. Tanah lapang dari perbukitan.
Ingatanmu terbuat dari cahaya, asap, sebuah kolam yang sama.
Melewati kedua matamu, lebih jauh, malam-malam menyala.
Sisa-sisa musim gugur basah berkisar dalam jiwamu.

(Diterjemahkan secara bebas oleh Puguh Dwi S)

Kalau kemanusiaan tersinggung, semua orang yang berperasaan dan berpikir akan ikut tersinggung, kecuali mereka yang gila atau berwatak kriminal.

—Pramoedya Ananta Toer

Rohingya Muslim is a minority people among a Buddhist majority in Myanmar. They basically are the people of Myanmar, but Myanmar considers the Rohingya to be immigrants from Bangladesh and West Bengal. Therefore, the government of Myanmar has treated its Rohingya Muslim people as intruders for years. The violence conflict between Buddhist and Muslim communities rises to worsen in Myanmar since 2012.  From that year on, many Rohingya Muslims have been made homeless and hundred have been killed. The Myanmar government, who have to take the charge for their people, especially Rohingya Muslims in this case, has fled from their duty. Even thought they seem to respond the critic from other countries by proposed an action plan that allowed Rohingya people to gain their full citizenship, still it’s seem to be unrealistic opportunity for Rohingya people. It’s unrealistic because the Rohingya are not eligible for full citizenship unless they can meet the nearly impossible requirements—they have to track their family history in Myanmar back to the days before British colonization. Those who fail to meet the standards would be put into what Myanmar calls “a resettlement zone”. Those who refuse to go through the process would be assigned to a displacement camp. Facing the quite impossible requirement, Rohingya Muslims decide to flee from that country by boat. They drifted in crowded boats in the seas off Southeast Asia, begging for food and water, some dying along the way. They throw the died-body to the sea. Some others die when they jump to the sea to ask help from fisherman. Then, where is the world when all this tragedy happened? Yes, the world has closed its eyes to the agony of Myanmar’s Rohingya for too long. Indonesia and Malaysia are, at least temporarily, taking in some of the migrants who suffering at the sea and give them temporary residence. Thailand, which has agreed to help but won’t take in more survivors, feed them food from helicopter like they are fish. Is there any humanism left in our world? This is a very serious humanism tragedy of our age. There are many reasons to save Myanmar’s Rohingya, but the main reason, the basic reason, is that we have to reconsider the basic fundamental of human right. Below I will give three justifications why Myanmar’s Rohingya crisis is a serious humanism tragedy.

First of all, according to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which is made by the United Nations, all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights (Article 1). It’s clearly that everyone whether they Muslim, Christian, Buddhist, Hindus, Catholic, or even an atheist deserve to get freedom and dignity in their life. It’s not the one right to take someone or a community rights. What happened with Myanmar’s Rohingya is a serious violation of the Human Rights. In Myanmar’s Rohingya cases the role of United Nations itself is questioned. The United Nations, who is represented the voice of Nations in the world, keep in silent. They realize that there is a genocide crime which is did by Myanmar’s government. They realize that the Myanmar’s government has failed on its role as a government. As we know the violence conflict between Myanmar’s Buddhist and Rohingya has revealed in 2012. But long day before it’s revealed the conflict has emerged. It’s a suck of human rights tragedy for our age. The age where technology and science has evolved rapidly, but it doesn’t followed by humanism of the human itself.

The second is the idea of equality. The idea of equality is another principle that we, as the human beings, have to hold. The idea of equality itself can be devided into three types. They are political equality, economical quality, and social equality. The first one that we have to give to Myanmar’s rohingya is the social equality. The social equality is very important in Myanmar’s Rohingya cases. It’s important because the social equality will cover the status of Myanmar’s Rohingya. It will also confess them as the member of human beings. Through this social equality Myanmar’s Rohingya will not be differentiate with the other human beings. But unfortunately, the social equality can only be achieved when political equality is at hand. Therefore, when the role of Myanmar’s government has failed, the United Nations should take an action in order to guarantee the idea of equality which is to be the essential point of human rights.

The last is the right to life. Based on the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights article number 3, “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person,” it has stated clearly enough that Myanmar’s Rohingya deserve to get their life, deserve to get their liberty, and deserve to get their security.  They deserve to life the way they want, and it’s not the right of someone or even a country to take their freedom. If one who dare enough to take the essential of human life that is the right to life, it will absolutely a serious criminal. The other important note is, when we, the member of human beings, knew such Myanmar’s Rohingya tragedy and we let this genocide happen in our world it’s obviously we have totally lost our essential humanism.

As can be seen, when we let Myanmar’s Rohingya crisis continuously happen, it’s quite clear that we will lost something important inside of us. It’s also clear enough that Myanmar’s Rohingya crisis is a serious humanism tragedy. As some reasons which has mentioned above, they are:

1. Everyone deserve to get their dignity and freedom in their life.

       2. Everyone have the same opportunity to be equal in politic, social, and economical.

3. Everyone have the right to life.


Picture taken from : http://www.aljazeera.com/mritems/Images/2012/ /5/201212519154861734_20.jpg