Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto
http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=64357702506&topic=13278
Every poet has their own prestige, radiates their own charisma, spread allure as strong as their quest to copulate the live in the life. They are such as various birds filled the jungle, fused chirping, sometimes collided competitiveness, for the ear retraced the foundation of quiet aims to the high plains of testimony.
In the wilderness of word has history along with content of any kind of knowledge, followed the rotation of the earth surrounds the sun, and circled millennium of light, stayed in dark hole of humanity. Contemplation on the days of battle, among sent the news about opinion, gave the seeds of acquisition, taste the fruit, and also reward each other the news to the land he stepped on.
He who was present at the end of the century, with glittering wings on to perfect achievement of the past would be remembered long enough, though I still hesitate to call it forever. Or that could break down the embankment of impasse for beautiful face of world policy as harmonious as the essence of feeling; justice for the sake of social prosperity.
Paz, owner of the anthropological background, he was freely studying symptoms contained in the circulatory motion of the earth. His captivating reading on long history of poetry, and meet its half parts in other countries, could be summarized as certain knowledge for his soul.
I thought Paz’s style read various scientific of poetic was equal; he tried to be objectively as he could in order no resistance in the future. He cut off the policy of power, by combining strewn harmony since the debris of ancient gathered by being on the situation of self. Occupied his personality at the wide corner similar theatre men has been familiar to boundaries of the stage, and the range of the light of history he believed.
With the whole believed knowledge could transform his words to conjure. Or the self has confidence more than it, hypnotize to whom supposedly his successors as sincerely to hear every curve and turns of his words. Through his essays he scatters ideology as if he was the heir of the 20th century and previous centuries, and which gives further enlightenment.
No doubt, who immediately understood his words without any suspicion, because of attracted by values of the true of logic he performed, would feel like part of the history of his words. Attracted like the needle firmly pulled to the magnetic plate, and the result is there are a lot of poetry style of quest on the achievement of his literary.
They are beguiled and followed, working their self up to the levels appointed, such as crossbreeding of nearly similar birds produce form of sequential, the style of Paz. In here, we do not deny that the birds learn from each other, for the sake to mature the purity it assigned. But I thought a poet is not a kind of bittern, which astutely plays the voices of other birds until forget the nature of its original sound.
Yesterday I was visiting to the enshrinement remnants of the Majapahit kingdom, while this soul is covered by old land of ancestral; its dust is ancient sends the news of interwoven history that is continually heard, for the heart always cares spiritual sensitivity. I trace back who is Paz? The poet who died in 1998, where at that time I was trying hard to clear away the jungle of soul, expressed it into the words when I was in Jogjakarta.
Octavio Paz once said: “so many theories, and none is really convincing.”
And I am full of confidence on my steps along with the fate given, fascinated with the works that is maturely of its working, though from one man I didn’t read his works much. It is a face; a piece of poetry could be explored the past periods of the writer over all the power of his reflection. Then the feeling would be there when we feel his incredible testimony to be reacted alone in the body.
And at this time I quoted his poem entitles:
TETANGGA JAUH
Semalam pohon abu
Nyaris bicara-
Tapi tak.
FAR NEIGHBOR
Last night the tree of ash
Almost spoke-
But didn’t.
And somehow in what year, I make the answers to the poem with my pen carved, inked in red as below:
Nurel’s Answer
Your greeting hesitated me
This self
buried the longing of
revenge, jealousy.
For Paz poem above, I got it in a book entitles “OKTAVIO PAZ”, Selected Poems and Essays, Translated by Arif B. Prasetyo, First Publishing, May 2002, Bentang Budaya Yogyakarta. And below, I will try to pass through a piece of his work into the formation of interpretation (which is retranslated into English would be more or less like above).
Far Neighbor
: Another voice remains unheard by the ear, but heard news delivered by the wind of approximation, weather and season of longing, the close and nearest region, but still has separator. Not distance, but it seemed like a transitional period, the translator sphere, at there Paz intended to purify poetical tradition, as he uttered:
“We’re not going through the end of the poem as some people had said, but the end of the poetic tradition that began the Great Romantic Era: a tradition that culminated with the Symbolic pets and entering the sphere of magnificent twilight by the arrival of the vanguard artists of our century. Another art is now poking at the horizon of dawn. ”
The one who hypnotizes has hope, it will be crowded by receiver. The one who sells more and more prayers would follow, and then its highest level is the soul sucked and led to the abyss of reverie. A goal hypnotized the steps of long quest, within told and incarnates the horns of a dilemma for the one whom sail boat of the light of his heart. Seekers behind are fascinated by the great glittering of the sentences, dazzled and dark to the eyes to move, knocked to forgetfulness.
Does not awareness affected to other forgetfulness? Anything accepted now is not usefully the same in handy later. Like the whisper of distant neighbors, or even doctors diagnose the patient, there is different echoes from drugs; suggestion proclaimed healing.
At the turn, the teller will be left by willing of each individual, who is not satisfied would interpret his own nation from the expert he is not known well. Then the clouds of approximation is no longer providing standpoint in reading the high mountains covered by fog. But, over all the power they turned again to pay attention dispute history of his people, as other voices (the searchers after) since the other (sound of Paz), and did not apply the same despite it is in the rhythm with.
Hence, the principal rather than principal, because of the soul is split by a number of curtains of fog that surrounds the heart of every searcher. The prophets continues the trail of the previous prophets, the echoes perfects the old existence, plants another ideology beside it.
Or echo of the universal voice is always evolving, far beyond the early existence. Through refused paralyzed sides, doesn’t have to wait for the dawn, the twilight also presents the stars. More calm and also it is essentially echoed, in the sphere of inner of other corners that are not heard.
Last night the tree of ash
: The history is preserved, myths spoken again from the mouth wanted to be paid forever, on the nature of presumed eternity. Born by the power of poetic, sweat derived from long reading, meditating to believe flash light of testimony in the cave. Then come out and felt has been undigested selfhood, which is considered capable of carrying purify to the others.
He held seed suppose grain of corn, sown on the land he thought fertile, as a store of ideas. He split the glare of fog, settled and followed the old passing, while he was creating another path for his presence; different colors for the considered enlightener of the times thereafter.
Are not we suspicious? Corn growers are also spreading the pest. Along with his hand gives desire to continue to his greetings? If we do not want to kiss the back of his fingers, although the idea was as if coming from cross idea, from the blood of the country we step on, the nuance of poetic is inhaled everyday life.
Who ever caressed and crossed the body, not an ownership rather than a sense of feeling, as he feels his own, we also enjoy. Loneliness of moon is same color with origin of the coming of attraction, but to who heard the sound before, and has the power of temptation as well.
Like a man walking on earth, is required by those beneath. Or, the death needs the throbbing of life as a witness of replies, and the testimony should not say yes.
Almost spoke-
: Paz who believe in the existence of a kind of revelation of the decline of poetry, like sabdo pandito ratu (the holy words from the king) in terms of Javanese. He (: poetry) is not the will to say something, but something that came out, and irrevocable (Octavio Paz Lozano was born in Mexico March 31, 1914, and died at April 19, 1998).
There are common sides, between the poet with a king; field of experience, the power of objects, signs, and most cold silence beyond the feeling of the loss of life, when his words were not able to move the joints of soul. Worse than has most black slave to marry; loss of dignity, because anything said did not happen.
Paz passed through the path of whispered. Down the waves of air, news of wind on the dropped leaves, then hiding and to be elusive mystery, except for a sense of its achievement feels shallow. Which is echoed by the secret of the essence of heart, dispersed and didn’t become confidentiality of poetic. As the stone is naked by the line of time, taken his words: “almost speak-”
There was another power, ghost of regret similar girl naked in a realist painting, always crammed with space-time points; cluster of fate at the end of the dagger, a hanging loose of hair with its shadow phosphorescent. So are the colors slowly retrace the secret path, the string across at front of the eyes, the sun always shines, and winking saves a disappointment.
Regret is the secret revealed by the arrogance of speaking through the words. The meaning of his life is asking rations; of mind, more forgotten. Just with another voice but equal with him we can raise. Unfortunately it had back to the beginning, so is to the point of anxiety in a sign of life to the future.
But didn’t
: Doubt ended. How a tremendous power, lived by a neck only, the doubts came suddenly and judge. A swing of sword shot, but before stroke to targets, there is a glimmer of light makes worry. Invisible rules; where feeling supports the energy, the heart moves lymph with the whole power into a wish.
If expressed, at the end of the path is the place of having the heart; causality of taking the heart, the causality (cause and effect) which contains both anxious and exasperation. Concentration is altercation but it also had disappeared by the wind passed, erased memories.
At the other hand, delirium history grew increasingly pushed in the night with limited lighting, continued to multiply the number in place of lightless, in the corner, in the midst of scrub that does not come out.
What he afraids of? Did he worry to disappear beneath the brightly lit? Nimble shadow sneaked, it was not the work of suggestions, or so?
Augustus 31, 2010.
the spaces of world figures, literature studies, new school of thought in the world of literature (art, letters, etc.)
Langganan:
Posting Komentar (Atom)
A. Syauqi Sumbawi
A.C. Andre Tanama
Aang Fatihul Islam
Abdul Aziz Rasjid
Abdul Hadi W. M.
Adam Roberts
Adelbert von Chamisso
Adreas Anggit W.
Aguk Irawan MN
Agus B. Harianto
Agus R. Sarjono
Ahmad Farid Yahya
Ahmad Yulden Erwin
Akhmad Sahal
Akhmad Sekhu
Albert Camus
Albrecht Goes
Alexander Pushkin
Alit S. Rini
Amien Kamil
Amy Lowell
Andra Nur Oktaviani
André Chénier
Andy Warhol
Angela
Angela Dewi
Angrok
Anindita S. Thayf
Anton Bruckner
Anton Kurnia
Anwar Holid
Arif Saifudin Yudistira
Arthur Rimbaud
Arti Bumi Intaran
AS Laksana
Asep Sambodja
Awalludin GD Mualif
Axel Grube
Bambang Kariyawan Ys
Basoeki Abdullah
Beethoven
Ben Okri
Bernando J. Sujibto
Berthold Damshäuser
Berto Tukan
BI Purwantari
Birgit Lattenkamp
Blaise Cendrars
Book Cover
Brunel University London
Budi Darma
Buku Kritik Sastra
C.C. Berg
Candra Kurnia
Cecep Syamsul Hari
Chairil Anwar
Chamim Kohari
Charles Baudelaire
Claude Debussy
Cristina Lambert
D. Zawawi Imron
Damhuri Muhammad
Dana Gioia
Daniel Paranamesa
Dante Alighieri
Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882)
Dareen Tatour
Darju Prasetya
Darwin
Dea Anugrah
Denny Mizhar
Diponegoro
Djoko Pitono
Djoko Saryono
Dwi Cipta
Dwi Kartika Rahayu
Dwi Pranoto
Edgar Allan Poe
Eka Budianta
Eka Kurniawan
Emha Ainun Nadjib
Emily Dickinson
Enda Menzies
Endorsement
Ernest Hemingway
Erwin Setia
Essay
Evan Ys
Fahmi Faqih
Fatah Anshori
Fazabinal Alim
Feby Indirani
François Villon
François-Marie Arouet (Voltaire)
Frankfurt Book Fair 2015
Franz Kafka
Franz Schubert
Franz Wisner
Frederick Delius
Friedrich Nietzsche
Friedrich Schiller
Fritz Senn
FX Rudy Gunawan
G. J. Resink
Gabriel García Márquez
Gabriela Mistral
Gerson Poyk
Goenawan Mohamad
Goethe
Hamid Dabashi
Hardi Hamzah
Hasan Junus
Hazrat Inayat Khan
Henri de Régnier
Henry Lawson
Hera Khaerani
Hermann Hesse
Ibnu Rusydi
Ibnu Wahyudi
Ignas Kleden
Igor Stravinsky
Imam Nawawi
Indra Tjahyadi
Inspiring Writer
Interview
Iskandar Noe
Jakob Sumardjo
Jalaluddin Rumi
James Joyce
Jean-Paul Sartre
Jiero Cafe
Johann Sebastian Bach
Johannes Brahms
John H. McGlynn
John Keats
José de Espronceda
Jostein Gaarder
Kamran Dikarma
Katrin Bandel
Khalil Gibran (1883-1931)
Koesoema Affandi
Koh Young Hun
Komunitas Deo Gratias
Komunitas Penulis Katolik Deo Gratias
Koskow
Kulya in the Niche of Philosophjy
Laksmi Pamuntjak
Laksmi Shitaresmi
Lathifa Akmaliyah
Laurencius Simanjuntak
Leila S Chudori
Leo Tolstoy
Lontar Foundation
Lorca
Lord Byron
Ludwig Tieck
Luís Vaz de Camões
Lutfi Mardiansyah
Luthfi Assyaukanie
M. Yoesoef
M.S. Arifin
Mahmoud Darwish
Mahmud Ali Jauhari
Mahmudi
Maman S. Mahayana
Marco Polo
Martin Aleida
Mathori A Elwa
Max Dauthendey
Membongkar Mitos Kesusastraan Indonesia
Michael Kumpfmüller
Michelangelo
Milan Djordjevic
Minamoto Yorimasa
Modest Petrovich Mussorgsky
Mozart
Mpu Gandring
Muhammad Iqbal
Muhammad Muhibbuddin
Muhammad Yasir
Mulla Shadra
Nenden Lilis A
Nikmah Sarjono
Nikolai Andreyevich Rimsky-Korsakov
Nirwan Ahmad Arsuka
Nirwan Dewanto
Nizar Qabbani
Noor H. Dee
Notes
Novel Pekik
Nunung Deni Puspitasari
Nurel Javissyarqi
Octavio Paz
Orasi Budaya
Orhan Pamuk
Pablo Neruda
Panos Ioannides
Patricia Pawestri
Paul Valéry
Paul van Ostaijen
PDS H.B. Jassin
Penerbit SastraSewu
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Pierre de Ronsard
Poems
Poetry
Pramoedya Ananta Toer
Pustaka Ilalang
PUstaka puJAngga
Putu Setia
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
R. Ng. Ronggowarsito (1802-1873)
Rabindranath Tagore
Radhar Panca Dahana
Rainer Maria Rilke
Rakai Lukman
Rama Dira J
Rambuana
Read Ravel
Rengga AP
Resensi
reviewer
RF. Dhonna
Richard Strauss
Richard Wagner
Ridha al Qadri
Robert Desnos
Robert Marcuse
Ronny Agustinus
Rosalía de Castro
Ruth Martin
S. Gunawan
Sabine Müller
Samsul Anam
Santa Teresa
Sapardi Djoko Damono
Sara Teasdale
Sasti Gotama
Saut Situmorang
Schreibinsel
Self Portrait Nurel Javissyarqi by Wawan Pinhole
Seno Joko Suyono
Sergi Sutanto
Shiny.ane el’poesya
Sholihul Huda
Short Story
Sigit Susanto
Sihar Ramses Simatupang
Siwi Dwi Saputro
Soeprijadi Tomodihardjo
Sofyan RH. Zaid
Solo Exhibition Rengga AP
Sony Prasetyotomo
Sri Wintala Achmad
Stefan Zweig
Stefanus P. Elu
Subagio Sastrowardoyo
Sunlie Thomas Alexander
Sunu Wasono
Suryanto Sastroatmodjo
Sutardji Calzoum Bachri
Sutejo
Syahruddin El-Fikri
T.S. Eliot
Taufik Ikram Jamil
Taufiq Ismail
Taufiq Wr. Hidayat
Tengsoe Tjahjono
Thales
The World Readers Award
Tito Sianipar
Tiya Hapitiawati
To Take Delight
Toeti Heraty
Tunggul Ametung
Ulysses
Umar Junus
Unknown Poet From Yugoslavia
Usman Arrumy
Utami Widowati
Vladimir Nabokov
W.S. Rendra
Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864)
Watercolour Paint
Wawan Eko Yulianto
Wawan Pinhole
Welly Kuswanto
Wildani Hefni
William Blake
William Butler Yeats
Wizna Hidayati Umam
World Letters
X.J. Kennedy
Yasraf Amir Piliang
Yasunari Kawabata
Yogas Ardiansyah
Yona Primadesi
Yuja Wang
Yukio Mishima
Z. Afif
Zadie Smith
Zeynita Gibbons
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar