Agus R. Sarjono

indonesisch

Nikmah Sarjono

englisch

Airmata Hujan

Jangan bidikkan aku, ronta Bedil sambil menggigil. Diam!
Bentak Tangan. Aku harus meledakkan anak-anak itu.
Tapi mereka masih belia! Lihatlah senyumnya yang muda
dan mereka tidak meminta selain kesejahteraanmu juga.
Bukankah engkau sering mengumpati gaji yang tak cukup
nafas hidup yang sempit, hingga harus berderap kian-kemari
mengutip sesuap nasi.

Jangan bidikkan aku, raung Bedil. Diam!
Ini bukan persoalan pribadi, hardik Tangan.
Ini masalah politik. Satu dua nyawa
sebagai taktik. Tapi ini bukan soal angka,
bukan soal satu dua
tapi soal ibu meratap kehilangan,
soal dimusnahkannya satu kehidupan
soal masa depan manusia yang dibekam. Soal hak …
Tutup mulutmu barang dinas! Kamu hanya alat

dan jangan berpendapat. Itu urusan politisi di majelis sana.
Tapi mereka hanya bahagia! Sergah bedil.
Mereka tak pernah peduli padamu, pada mereka,
pada yang miskin dan teraniaya.
Mereka tak mengurusi siapa-siapa
selain dirinya. Dor! Bedil itu tersentak. Jangan …
D or .. dor .. dor .. dor…  Selesai  sudah

gumam Tangan. Bukankah ini sudah berlebihan, isak Bedil.
Entahlah, gumam Tangan, aku tak tahu. Aku penat.
Aku hanya ingin istirahat. Semoga istri
dan anak-anakku di rumah sana
semuanya selamat.

Bedil itupun menjelma hujan. Tak putus-putusnya
mencurahkan airmata. 

© Komodo Books
Aus: Suatu Cerita dari Negeri Angin
Komodo Books, 2001
Audioproduktion: Haus für Poesie / 2015

Tears of Rain

Please do not aim me, a rifle wriggles and shivers.
Shut up! Yells the hand. I have to shoot those kids.
But they are still very young! Look at their adolescent smiles
and they demand nothing but your welfare too.
Don’t you often curse your small salary, your limited
opportunities, that you have to trot here and there
picking a fistful of rice?

Do not aim me, the rifle wails.
Shut up! This is not a personal problem, the hand scolds.
This is a political problem. One or two lives
have to be sacrificed.
But this isn’t about numbers, not about one or two
but about a mother lamenting her loss,
about the termination of someone’s life
about the discontinuity of someone’s future. About the rights of...
Shut up, you piece of equipment! You’re just a tool

so don’t argue. Arguments are for politicians in the councils.
But those politicians are only thinking about themselves! The rifle replies.
They never care about you, about them,
or about the poor and the oppressed.
They care for nothing other than their own interests.
Bang! The horrific sound startles the rifle. Nooooo......!!!
Bang! ...bang! ...bang! ...bang!
It’s done... the hand murmurs. This is insane! The rifle cries.
I don’t know, whispers the hand... I don’t know... I'm tired.
I just want to go home and have a rest. Hopefully my wife
and my children are safe back home.

Then the rifle transforms itself into rain. Endlessly pouring
its tears.

Translated by Nikmah Sarjono