Trunks Glagah
Scramble to reach the blue sky
A breath of fresh air
Lined-row at the edge of the village road
...
Mist hovering kite
At the foot of the mountain
Lightweight white cotton like
Morning breeze
...
Golden flute sound of Kang Gareng,
High-pitched, split the air mist
Splitting the dark night yan
A troubled heart-wrenching
...
I am the village women,
can only read and write Java script,
Javanese
not the letter Pallava and Sanskrit
...
Many times I said I was selfish
Selfish, but you still follow me
Like, do not like. Wherever I go
For that, I was annoyed
...
Throughout the years, this fertile ground of all time
produce an abundant rice harvest
but when Cane and Nila had to be planted
with the laws and promises
...
at home there are grandparents
age is aging
95 years
every day
...
sure not sure
Do you yourself believe
absolutely convinced
all on me
...
storm yesterday afternoon
knock down pine trees
damaging flowers
telephone poles
...