By Nurish Hardefty
Arak-arakan pria berkulit putih nan tampan bak pangeran dalam negeri dongeng telah berlalu,
Berselimut kata, beraroma janji semu.
Mereka mengetuk jendela hatiku tiap pagi hingga larut malam—
Namun sunyiku tetap teguh, tak ingin berbagi.
Sebab jiwaku telah lama mengukir satu nama
Si durjana berwajah pujangga.
Engkau bukan bait lembut atau syair yang jinak,
Melainkan badai yang kutunggu saat langit hambar dan retak.
Cintamu begitu gelisah, tanpa akar, tanpa mahkota,
Hari ini kau mentari, esok hanya angin tak bersuara.
Namun engkau—penuh cela dan cahaya yang membara,
Menjadi teka-teki jiwa yang tak sanggup kuredakan maknanya.
Kau bukan rumah dengan pintu yang kukenal benar,
Namun setiap lekuk dirimu membuatku ingin kembali menyandar.
Dan walau kau tak pernah belajar untuk menetap,
Aku pun tak bisa jadi dermaga bagi kapal lain yang hendak singgah tetap.
Apa arti seribu pria bersujud penuh puji,
Jika nadiku masih menari di senyapmu yang sunyi?
Cinta, mungkin, bukan soal akal yang sejalan—
Melainkan pengakuan yang paling dalam dan personal.
Maka biarlah kau tetap batu dalam kabut tebal,
Asal kutahu: di dalammu, jiwaku masih kekal.
Dan walau tak tergenggam oleh jemari,
Kau telah tinggal di puisiku ini—abadi, tak terganti.
---
A Heart Adrift by One Name
By Nurish Hardefty
The procession of white-Caucasian, handsome men like fairy-tale prince has passed,
Covered in words, scented with false promises.
They knocked on the window of my heart every morning until late at night-
But my silence remains firm, unwilling to share.
For my soul has long carved out a name
The miscreant with the face of a poet.
You are not a soft verse or a tame poem,
But a storm that I wait for when the sky is bland and cracked.
Your love is so restless, rootless, crownless,
Today you're the sun, tomorrow just a soundless wind.
Yet you-full of blemishes and burning light,
A riddle of the soul that I can't decipher.
You're not a house with a door I know well,
Yet every curve of you makes me want to lean back.
And though you never learned to stay,
I can't be a dock for other ships that want to stay.
What is the meaning of a thousand men bowing in praise,
if my pulse still dances in your silent stillness?
Love, perhaps, is not a matter of reason aligning-
But rather the deepest and most personal confession.
So let you remain a stone in a thick fog,
As long as I know: in you, my soul is still eternal.
And though not grasped by fingers,
You have taken up residence in this poem of mine-eternal, irreplaceable.
Comments