Rudiana Ade Ginanjar's poems
Rudiana Ade Ginanjar, poet, writes essays and translations. Born in Cilacap, 1985. His latest poetry book is, "Salam Bumi".
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Notes of a Soldier
The leaves intertwine in silence.
The arbor of the nobleman,
training himself to the hunt,
is the garden and the game.
Wealth, poverty—the chasms....
Part of the night is only weariness.
For the sun is angry,
a sight echoes far away.
When lies and greed,
infest the land
black night.
The gardens are drenched in fire,
a silent blow
returned to barbarism.
Hosts and shopkeepers,
people from distant fields
the city of barebacks and tents
who are not gypsies.
Oh, the invasion. When will the day of closing your eyes come?
Just take a moment to sleep,
grabbed a front image.
And an explosion in space,
fall of stars.
Tomorrow a wounded form rose.
2023
Also read: Roman Name Poems
Land and War
I.
It's been a long journey,
but he hasn't arrived yet.
The ground was black with gunpowder, but it wasn't blue either.
Canals were built to block
____invasion; cannons or rifles
take turns barking.
Dome, only the tower remains.
In the blue of the sky, the odd hum of an iron bird.
Standing awake alone,
surrounding a silent bed.
The forests lay tired bodies
from the scars of attacks.
For a long time the Roman prince
roamed the land,
and did not stop.
It was the elephants of Hindustan,
arrows from the darkness of the forest
stopped the footprints of the empire.
Like the Mongols,
fertile land offerings
and named tribes.
The lost part
and the magical genealogy.
The garden will grow,
the garden will be watered,
____weeping and waiting.
For the sake of the land, they shed blood.
Eurasia, Eurasia
End the dry road of war, end it.
Refugees and their sad faces,
a path to escape,
ancestors and all the origins of words crying.
A city that has lived since dawn,
a village of innocence.
Women- slender women
and their rainy conversations.
II.
Long sounds of explosions,
in the embankments the fog took cover.
Winter has arrived.
Does time exist in the sun?
Night and day are no different
the choice of living or giving up.
The vastness of the field accommodates longing,
when the journey becomes stranger.
Troops arrive and move,
only war never chooses
someone to be buried.
The smell of acid and petrichor,
the sky black with terror.
Unknown chirp
just fate:
on the land every adam returns.
2023
Also read: Hasan Al Banna's poems
Evening, one November
The wind had stayed further away from what was in front of me now.
The sea sings, like singing.
The air stops, plays question words
____along the roads and mountains.
The days grew quiet. That's it.
A canal has been built
____that supports all
life flows.
2023
Finishing
Since the beginning the voice is far away
and the seasons pass
arriving at an end.
It's almost evening,
the night will ripen
and the distance is sinking.
Distant tendrils, tired voices
faint and fall.
Memories have turned him into ashes
A sign,
a deaf riddle.
2023
Also read: Dimarifa Dy's Poems
Teen Episode
Across the papaya trees
only a layer of mud. The water rushes from
the direction of the sun,
towards the river of your childhood.
Only dates and embankments
blue emotion, when a piece of rhyme fly
across heights.
Decorative fruits,
the young hours of the sun.
Across your present,
only ten words remain to be spoken.
Or the bridge collapses
and the rivers flow
____into the forest disappearing genealogy.
Each self combs
headlands or hills,
human faces and stops.
Frail flowers bloom,
bitter bargaining songs.
The white bird is the name of your heart
br/>removed far away.
History flashes
into a mahogany-scented year.
2021
Also read: Gimien Artekjursi Poems
After Fullmoon
The year has finally come to an end,
with the half-bright moon
____the dry season has arrived.
In a corner of the village, a new song is sung.
With a blanket of sublime faces
____like the clocks are turned on
after silence,
the night rises slowly.
The clarity of sleep, very subtle.
People drift into the temple of sincere
____longing, to the cold
which brings a comfortable aroma
____atmosphere, to silence
faith that finds the way to siam time.
2019
Also read: S Prasetyo Utomo's poems
Pastoral Strings
I've been here
____when the wind music player
played the tune. Desires and ideals
____rub together, our beats
in the softness of time
like the sage becomes cheerful
when the bells from the high towers
beat the walls of the airy hills.
The sun upstream of the river,
a pair of eyes from the petals of the universe.
Time passes through centuries of sheltering in a village.
Whose cool arms are
beginning to spread the hues of twilight?
Arms from the fragments of the day,
grow in the morning hours
____when the wind music player
starts his journey. Asylum for refugees
above the scourges and fury,
abundance of green tree fruit,
hanging the square of the holy soul
prostrate a pair of feet
____in the rite of remembrance.
Beneath the moon's body,
the naked night seems endless:
____reveals a series of stories
from profane nature,
the ground is stripped of wet breath,
the leaves are drooping, a blanket of dust,< br/>silent air throne.
2019