By Komang Ira Puspitaningsih
In my poems
are silent fireflies, pretty dolls, and
innocent girls whose fluttering skirts
display butterflies with colors
of orange, blue, purple, and pink.
A smile appears on the lips of the lad
who waits for rain
in the night.
The steps of my dog are muffled
by the grass
in the yard outside my house
In my poems
are stories of soldiers
and homesick
prisoners-of-war.
There are small boys shouldering rifles
and donning bulletproof vests.
There are bitter looks on the faces of mothers
who hold the bodies of dead sons on their laps
and there is my mother’s face as well, with its constant look of doubt
and the smile of my father as I sleep
In my poems
are angels
with colorful robes
and powerful and shining wands
as well as the fairies that always dance
at the rainbow’s end
And in my poems
you come to me in the streaming rain
that penetrates the roots of my hair
containing worry
condensing anxiety
becoming the laughter on your lips,
and on mine
In my poems
words turn green
and the air, blue
Translations by John McGlynn