A Pilgrimage Poem by Astrajingga Asmasubrata

Poetry is a flurry mute
I detected from the dictionaries
To the deep heart of the languages. There is a word blood
The stream of sorrow rancid and tired
Each bunch also stanzas
This pulse was sentimentalism

But the novelty arise from doubt
And prophecy. stalled clockwise
The fictional rite full of why and because
What I received inimical spilled, knocked
Then God, I wished
Swim on the great pedestal prayed

Poetry a number of routine
Thought-out almost casual
Between now and then. Without you
Only a restless and watery story
Each time you raise your eyes
Before holding by workworkwork

But the fragment recorded bloody hell
In a heart sick for stones
Is stoned by half legions missed
Incarnate a titans from bad dreams
Outside us and breaked prayers
Ordered fatigued to throne's God

(Pondok Bambu,2016)

Translated By Setyowati Wulandari