I'm not going anywhere
Although going to sea is in vain
You always take a boat.
You stop pedaling.
The sun sets ahead
The pale sand of the beach behind.
Unable remaining journey
You can imagine how far it will go
another, much smaller boat.
A candle burns as the captain.
Hitchhiking flowers never wilt.
After the disaster it was turned into rubble,
The tornado didn't want to come again.
He looks for other arrogances.
The bridge keeps collapsing as if it never will again
Fixed. The builders lost their nerves
Connecting our languages.
Between broken pillars,
I stood shirtless—bodyless
Always can't find a way to wipe your tears
While you're getting closer to anchoring.
Sasak land. perhaps at every turn of the century there is a battle. in the past, while the ocean was congealing into a homeland. four wise men from the four directions, worshiped at the Pancer point. after the quietest meeting. saints fight, fighting over life and death.
Sir, this Galip's body flows limestone blood. flowing blood. flowing sap distance. the first bush of the Sasak country. overflowing into martyrdom. floundering into the fields, kayon datu bloodshed.
So please allow me to occasionally look at the beam of light at the edge of your master's face. capture the remembrance that never ends. the most secret feeling that establishes prayer in the servant's body. like a bat meditating in a banana leaf.
because, the curse of Kuruksetra that broke out in my ears, was just pity. the mother cried, falling like a mountain of a million landslides. wounded by the words of travelers sharper than the tip of a whaler's harpoon.