Sunday, October 29, 2017



Par: Yohanes Manhitu

Je traversa le temps 

sans aucune poésie 
qui me consolait 
avec tendresse.

Mais je reviens.
Oui, je reviens.
C’est grâce à elle 
et aussi pour elle – 
ma consolatrice.

Quel silence !
Quelle solitude !
Si je m’éloigne d’elle 
et mes nuits sont si longues.

Mais je reviens.
Oui, je reviens.
C’est grâce à elle 
et aussi pour elle – 
ma consolatrice.

Yogyakarta, le 22 août 2005



By: Yohanes Manhitu 

Gold in hand I have not,
but love in the heart I keep.
If you love me unconditionally
and forever without shackles,

woman, everyday I’ll love you.

And according to destiny, let’s walk!
The holy book, let’s read together!
Because from it we take riches.
On earth, o darling, let’s love!
With God, we shall be happy.

Yogyakarta, December 2007



By: Yohanes Manhitu

What does coffee offer you
besides the sweetness hidden
in every swallow flowing slowly
along the throat, where nothing
is left but accumulating poison?

And how long will such sweetness
remain in the tongue, if the tongue
is too sweet to taste more sweetness
or too weak to stand any bitterness?
Then how shall I judge what is sweet
or be familiar with something bitter?

Of course, you know many tastes,
as many as the colors of the rainbow
forming the perfect spectrum in the sky.

It is strange that sweetness might kill
and bitterness conversely might cure.

But how can I stand coffee temptation
and begin to love slices of bitter melon
while sweetness measures happiness?

Yogyakarta, 22 March 2005



By: Yohanes Manhitu

Midnight rain…
Did you have enough nap this afternoon?
I wonder why you did not show up this morning.
I would have called you “morning rain”
if you had shown up in the early morning.
Why are you here when I am about to enjoy a dream?
You do bother me. Do not you understand?
I should have let you know beforehand.

Midnight rain…
Why do you arrive
when I am listening to the beautiful music of nature?
You seem to envy me, do you?
By the way, maybe it is not your fault, but mine.
I should have been in bed with a beautiful dream
so that I do not see you when you arrive with noise.

Midnight rain…
Are you the teardrops of the sorrowful heaven?
Is heaven sad because men are going crazy on earth?
Whisper me some meaningful words so that I understand you!
Or, maybe you are the answer of dry earth’s long prayers?
Will you help me tell my prayers to the cities of heaven?
When you return to paradise and its flower gardens,
please send me a bundle of heavenly pink roses.
Do it for me, midnight rain!

Yogyakarta, 4 January 2003


Oleh: Yohanes Manhitu

A night fairy dresses in deadly evening fashion and
stands on a long busy pavement next to a noisy site.
Her shiny left hand is playing with a white cigarette.
And her other hand is fishing the predatory night.

The night passes just like a slowly moving old train.
The rest of the world is suffering killing sleepiness.
But the night fairy is still on the pavement, waiting.
Her curving eyes are watching the street opposite her.

Here comes a hungry tall man moving slowly but surely
on the long pavement toward the waiting smiling beauty.
No long boring sermon was made; only figures they said.
There goes the night couple; a journey to the sun awaits.

Yogyakarta, 14 November 2003