By Inggit Putria Marga
yes, like the sun retrieving its diffused rays, he will come to you
to tame the snakes of disappointment in your head,
disappointed for those who have gone,
worried about those who will return
yes, after coming to you in the form of incense smoke adrift on the temple’s silence
he will perfuse your soul, open the knot of flowers in your chest
dampen the embers of anxiety in your heart —
anxious about yesterdays, uneasy about what might have been
yes, but such a thing will happen only when you transform to water,
which neither seeks a beginning nor an end, or is forever asking
why it must flow and pool
Translations by John McGlynn