Soe Harri's Chronicle,1 Poem by Astrajingga Asmasubrata

Seemingly I was late.
In middle room, gaze up at water flower,
Tears fight up the voices, photos outdated
Middle-aged men's lucky smile.

The face in porch softly seemed
Even I thought he accosted
Spite of without words: 'Please sit down,
Let's play chess until dozy! '

On rug prayer, people were deepest dressed
Stammered holy scriptures. Then mother's paled
I spared her against the wall white broken;
I hold body with tears.

'My father told me, if he died
The chessboard buried within him, ' said I
While bet up a mess of tears

(Maja, 2015)

Translated By Setyowati Wulandari