Disconnected

By: Yohanes Manhitu 

I picked up the phone,
dialed and tried to listen.
A very soft voice answered.
It was the voice of an angle.
Yes, the angel of uncertainty.

A big rain of words came,
I respired a sudden peace.
My lungs formed a choir,
No word described my joy.
The voice was a blessing.

I felt the soft rhythm of it,
I picked every word it said.
My lips danced in harmony,
My words ran in a formula,
My language was colloquial.

A quarter was a like a minute.
Rupiahs flowed like a waterfall.
Laughter and jokes came in turn.
A disaster arrived in the middle:
A cable evil kidnapped the angel.

Samosir, North Sumatra, 26 May 2003

Welcome to My Soul

By: Yohanes Manhitu

Let’s say my soul is a royal palace
where you can rest with no doubt.
Let’s say you are an expected visitor
whose advent will bring me happiness.
Let’s say time is the host at the palace
who will guide you to see this place.
Time will let you pass the door.

Yogyakarta, 12 June 2003

Here We Play

By: Yohanes Manhitu

Yes, here together we play
According to a common rule.
But often, like pirates,
We seize glory with a sword.

It is hard to play without hindrance and bother
In this vast field with no friendship.
But there is no field so bad
That there flowers cannot grow.

Yogyakarta, December 2007

Ohin loron ita-nian

Retratu: http://www.getanswer.org

Hosi: Yohanes Manhitu

Loron tuan troka ho loron foun.
Dala ruma ita ladún hatene
katak ita la'o dook tiha ona,
husik hela loron ne'ebé ita tanis,
husik hela oras ne'ebé ita hamnasa
iha ita-nia inan doben nia liman laran,
liman sira maka book ho domin furak.

Ohin loron, ita tenke semo mesamesak,
hanesan manu be tenke buka hahán rasik.
Maibé keta ta'uk, Maromak fó ksolok nafatin
tanbá Nia rasik haraik tiha ona Liafuan Lulik.

Oras ne'e mak ita-nia biban, ita-nia tempu,
tempu atu hatudu an ba mundu tomak;
tempu atu pinta i hafurak moris naruk.

Pugeran Timur-Yogyakarta, Maiu 2005

Ema la’o-rai

Retratu: http://www.travelhouse.ch

Hosi: Yohanes Manhitu

Loron ba loron nia sei la’o,

kalan ba kalan nia mehi
la’o hela ninia moris-fatin,

la’o hela fitun rai-na’in.

Loron ba loron nia moris,

kalan ba kalan nia moras
hanoin fitun iha rai-balun.

Fulan ba fulan nia serbisu,

tinan ba tinan nia hamulak
husu grasa ba Maromak.

Tinan barabarak liu tiha ona,

tinan ohin ne'e atu lakon ona.
Oras sei to’o atu kaer liman
no dehan adeus ba malu.

Samosir, fulan-Maiu 2003