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Indonesian to English: Selagi Kau Lelap General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - Indonesian Sekarang pukul 01.30 pagi di tempatmu.
Kulit wajahmu pasti sedang terlipat di antara kerutan sarung bantal. Rambutmu yang tebal menumpuk di sisi kanan, karena engkau tidur terlungkup dengan muka menghadap ke sisi kiri. Tanganmu selalu tampak menggapai, apakah itu yang selalu kau cari di bawah bantal?
Aku selalu ingin mencuri waktumu. Menyita perhatianmu. Semata-mata supaya aku bisa terpilin masuk ke dalam lipatan seprai tempat tubuhmu sekarang terbaring.
Sudah hampir tiga tahun aku begini. Dua puluh delapan bulan. Kalikan tiga puluh. Kalikan dua puluh empat. Kalikan enam puluh. Kalikan lagi enam puluh. Kalikan lagi enam puluh. Niscaya akan kau dapatkan angka ini: 4.354.560.000.
Itulah banyaknya milisekon sejak pertama aku jatuh cinta kepadamu. Angka itu bisa lebih fantastis kalau ditarik sampai skala nano. Silakan cek. Dan aku berani jamin engkau masih ada di situ. Di tiap inti detik, dan di dalamnya lagi, dan lagi, dan lagi...
Penunjuk waktuku tak perlu mahal-mahal. Memandangmu memberikanku sensasi keabadian sekaligus mortalitas. Rolex tak mampu berikan itu.
Mengertilah, tulisan ini bukan bertujuan untuk merayu. Kejujuran sudah seperti riasan wajah yang menor, tak terbayang menambahinya lagi dengan rayuan. Angka miliaran tadi adalah fakta matematis. Empiris. Siapa bilang cinta tidak bisa logis. Cinta mampu merambah dimensi angka dan rasa sekaligus.
Sekarang pukul 02.30 di tempatmu. Tak terasa sudah satu jam aku di sini. Menyumbangkan lagi 216.000 milisekon ke dalam rekening waktuku. Terima kasih. Aku semakin kaya saja. Andaikan bisa kutambahkan satuan rupiah, atau lebih baik lagi, dolar, di belakangnya. Tapi engkau tak ternilai. Engkau adalah pangkal, ujung, dan segalanya yang di tengah-tengah. Sensasi ilahi. Tidak dolar, tidak juga yen, mampu menyajikanmu.
Aku tak pernah terlalu tahu keadaan tempat tidurmu. Bukan aku yang sering ada di situ. Entah siapa. Mungkin cuma guling atau bantal-bantal ekstra. Terkadang benda-benda mati justru mendapatkan apa yang paling kita inginkan, dan tak sanggup kita bersaing dengannya. Aku iri pada baju tidurmu, handukmu, apalagi pada guling... sudah. Stop. Aku tak sanggup melanjutkan. Membayangkannya saja ngeri. Apa rasanya dipeluk dan didekap tanpa pretensi? Itulah surga. Dan manusia perlu beribadah jungkir-balik untuk mendapatkannya Hidup memang bagaikan mengitari Gunung Sinai. Tak diizinkannya kita untuk berjalan lurus-lurus saja demi mencapai Tanah Perjanjian.
Kini, izinkan aku tidur. Menyusulmu ke alam abstrak di mana segalanya bisa bertemu. Pastikan kau ada di sana, tidak terbangun karena ingin pipis, ata mimpi buruk. Tunggu aku.
Begitu banyak yang ingin kubicarakan. Mari kita piknik, mandi susu, potong tumpeng, main pasir, adu jangkrik, balap karung, melipat kertas, naik getek, tarik tambang... tak ada yang tak bisa kita lakukan, bukan? Tapi kalau boleh memilih satu: aku ingin mimpi tidur di sebelahmu. Ada tanganku di bawah bantal, tempat jarimu menggapai-gapai.
Tidurku meringkuk ke sebelah kanan sehingga wajah kita berhadapan. Dan ketika matamu terbuka nanti, ada aku di sana. Rambutku yang berdiri liar dan wajahmu yang tercetak kerut seprai.
Tiada yang lebih indah dari cinta dua orang di pagi hari. Dengan muka berkilap, bau keringat, gigi bermentega, dan mulut asam... mereka masih berani tersenyum dan saling menyapa 'selamat pagi'.
Translation - English Now it is 01.30 A.M. at your place.
I take it that part of your face is currently folded within the wrinkles of a pillowcase. Your dense hair amass on your right-side, because you lie face-down to the left. Your hand always seem to hover, to reach. Is there something you are looking for under your pillow?
I always want to steal your time. To hold a firm grip of your attention. Only so I can weave myself into the cover of the bed where you presently lies.
Three years is almost gone since I come to be like this. Twenty-eight months. Multiply it with thirty. Multiply it with twenty-four. Multiply it again with sixty. Again with sixty. Again with sixty. In the end, you will reach the number: 4.354.560.000.
That is the number of millisecond ever since I first fell in love with you. That number can become even more outlandish if to be converted further to nano-scale. Try it out yourself. I am brave enough to assure that you are still there. Within the core of every second, and within it, and again, and again...
I do not need an expensive tool to display the time. Watching you gives me the sensation of both infinity and mortality. Rolex cannot give me that.
Please understand this: this writing is not intended to entice you. The truth is already like an excessive make-up, it is unimaginable if we are to add seduction into it. The number with the billions just now is a mathematical fact. Empiric. Who said love cannot be logical. Love can penetrate both the dimension of numbers and senses.
It is now 02.30 A.M. at your place. An hour had passed with me there. Another 216.000 millisecond in my time-account. Thank you. I am growing even richer by the second. If only I could add the unit Rupiah, or, even better, Dollar behind the number. But you are priceless. You are the beginning, the end, and all the things in the middle. A divine sensation. Not Dollar, not even Yen can represent the value of you.
I never really know what is in your bed. I am not the one who is frequently there. I do not know who. Maybe only extra bolster or pillows. Sometimes inorganic stuffs are the ones that get what we dearly wants, and we cannot even compete with them. I am jealous of your sleeping-attire, your towel, not to mention your bolster. Enough. Stop. I cannot continue anymore. To only imagine it even frightens me. How does a hug without pretense feel? Heavenly. And men need to pray fervently to get that heavenly feeling. Life does feel like doing a round of Mount Sinai. God does not allow us to enjoy a straight walk into the Promised Land.
Now, allow me to sleep. To follow you to the abstract realm where every meeting is possible. Please still be there. Do not wake yourself up because you need to go to the toilet, or worse, because of a nightmare. Wait for me.
I have a lot to talk about with you. Let us have picnics, bathe in milk, play with the sand, make crickets fight, race gunny sacks, fold papers, row canoes, play tug of war... Nothing cannot be done, right? But if I only can choose one, I want a dream where I sleep next to you. My hand under the pillow where your fingers hover.
I sleep facing the right so that our faces meet. And when you open your eyes later, I would already be there. My wild, messy hair and your face with the sheet printed there.
Nothing is more beautiful than the love between two persons early in the morning. With oily face, smell of sweat, yellowed teeth, and sour mouth... they are still brave enough to smile and say, "Good morning."
Indonesian to English: Jembatan Zaman General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - Indonesian Bertambahnya usia bukan berarti kita paham segalanya.
Pohon besar tumbuh mendekati langit dan menjauhi tanah. Ia merasa telah melihat segala dari ketinggiannya.
Namun, masih ingatkah ia dengan sepetak tanah mungil waktu masih kerdil dulu? Masih pahamkah ia akan semesta kecil ketika semut serdadu bagaikan kereta raksasa dan setetes embun seolah bola kaca dari surga, tatkala ia tak peduli akan pola awan di langit dan tak kenal tiang listrik?
Waktu kecil dulu, kupu-kupu masih sering hinggap di pucuknya. Kini burung besar bahkan bersangkar di ketiaknya, kawanan kelelawar menggantungi buahnya. Namun jangan sekali-kali ia merendahkan kupu-kupu yang hanya menggeliat di tapaknya, karena mendengar bahasanya pun ia tak mampu lagi.
Setiap jenjang memiliki dunia sendiri, yang selalu dilupakan ketika umur bertambah tinggi. Tak bisa kembali ke kacamata yang sama bukan berarti kita lebih mengerti dari yang semula. Rambut putih tak menjadikan kita manusia yang segala tahu.
Dapatkah kita kembali mengerti apa yang ditertawakan bocah kecil atau yang digejolakkan anak belasan tahun seiring dengan kecepatan yaman yang melesat meninggalkan? Karena kita tumbuh ke atas tapi masih dalam petak yang sama.. Akar kita tumbuh ke dalam dan tak bisa terlalu jauh ke samping. Selalu tercipta kutub-kutub pemahaman yang tak akan bertemu kalau tidak dijembatani.
Jembatan yang rendah hati, bukan kesombongan diri.
Translation - English The accumulation of age does not mean we understand everything.
A giant tree grows toward the sky and grows further from the ground. It feels like it had seen everything from its height.
Still, does it remember the small plot of land of its younger days? Would it still understand the small microcosm where a row of red ants walks as though a giant locomotive; a drop of dew like a glass-bead falling from heaven? Would it still understand things from when it did not concern itself with the pattern of the clouds and electric poles?
When it was young, butterflies often alight on the tree's tips. Now even giant birds build their nest in its branches, flocks of bat hanging on its fruits. Yet it would not underestimate butterflies, which now only are able to flutter near its roots, because to listen to their language is now impossible to him.
Every era has its own world, one which it forgets with the passing of age. Being unable to return to the same point of view does not mean we understand more than in our earlier days. Graying hair does not instantly make us all-knowing.
Can we return to understand what incites the laughter of young boys, what flames the heart of young boys along with the swift advancement of age? Because we grow toward the sky but suspended in the same square. Our roots draw deep to the ground with only a slight lateral extension. Contrasting ideas will always turn up, and they would never coincide if not bridged.
A bridge filled with humility, not cocky arrogance.
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Bachelor's degree - Atma Jaya Catholic University of Indonesia
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Years of experience: 10. Registered at ProZ.com: Sep 2014.
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