⊗
Cipinang, 8 October, 1995
If I could
capture between my fingers
the sighs of the sea
and share them with
children
If I could
caress with my fingers
the wave’s gentle breeze
and feel the hair of
children
If I could
feel between my fingers
the kiss of the foam
And hear the laughter of
Children
If I could
touch with my fingers
the sleep of the sea
and coax to slumber the eyes of
children
If I could
take between my fingers
pretty little shells
and make of them necklaces for
children
Oh, sea of mine!
why do you wait?
why don’t you give?
why don’t you feel?
why don’t you hear?
Immersed in my thoughts
I was suddenly shaken
From the sea, my sea,
out of the bellies of ships
tremors came
I looked at the erupting sky
the sights of the sea were
cries of agony
the gentle breeze
the smell of dust and blood
the kiss of the foam
the death-rattle
the sea’s slumber
the pebbles of the gravestone
and the pretty shells
traced
the Destiny of the Homeland!
