Nació la palabra en la sangre, creció en el cuerpo oscuro, palpitando, y voló con los labios y la boca. (The word was born in the blood, grew in the dark body, beating, and flew through the lips and the mouth.) Pablo Neruda, La palabra
Sunday, August 31, 2014
To the distant angel
By: Yohanes Manhitu
To you, distant angel, I write these verses;
to you, distant angel, I will recite my poems.
Sometimes I believe that we belong to one life,
many nights I dreamt we two shared a dream.
But now I suppose that you are a distant angel.
Many moments we shared in rich happiness,
much time we enjoyed in pure togetherness.
But now I see that you are just a distant angel.
I hoped I would kiss your very fragrant flesh,
but now I see your soul dancing with the wind.
Allow me to dance with your tempted soul!
Give me a second to touch you tender mind!
Should I take your soul away from the wind?
Will your flesh stand any torture of the world?
Should my lips keep calling you "distant angel"?
Baciro-Yogyakarta, 23 June 2003

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