蔗尾蜂房

[一九四六年筆記]
--Chairil Anwar (1922-1949)，羅浩原 譯

我的手，某時終將無聊地垂晃，
戲光影於水上、在霧中失去形狀，
而吾愛的聲音將不復勸哄。
我獨自雕刻墓碑然後將其擁在懷中。

我等─ ─ 獵犬 ─ ─此時只見這齣戲之一幕
不知羅密歐與茱麗葉往後會擁抱於墓地或床第
一位大人物誕生和千百人身死
都應該記下來，都要有一方空間。

而我們即將沒有狩獵時的痙攣
倘若火炮已被封存，只是積灰塵的紀念品，
我們追逐目標或屈服於已出生的孩子，
因為那不該眨的眼、不該見的面還有你削尖的筆，
因為紙乾所以寫字，喉嚨乾要一點滋潤！

1946


[Tjatetan Th. 1946]
--Chairil Anwar

Ada tanganku, sekali akan djemu terkulai,
Mainan tjahja diair hilang bentuk dalam kabut,
Dan suara jang kutjintai ‘kan berhenti membelai.
Kupahat batu nisan sendiri dan kupagut.

Kita—andjing diburu—hanja melihat sebagian dari sandiwara sekarang
Tidak tahu Romeo & Juliet berpeluk dikubur atau dirandjang
Lahir seorang besar dan tenggelam beratus ribu
Keduanja harus ditjatet, keduanja dapat tempat.

Dan kita nanti tiada sawan lagi diburu
Djika bedil sudah disimpan, tjuma kenangan berdebu,
Kita memburu arti atau diserahkan pada anak lahir sempat,
Karena itu djangan mengerdip, tatap dan penamu asah,
Tulis karena kertas gersang, tenggorokan kering sedikit mau basah!


[Notes for 1946]
--translated by Burton Raffel

These hands, which some day will sag with disgust,
These hands flick brightly through water,
These hands lose all shape in thick mist,
And the voice I love will not caress me.
I cut a grave-stone and peck away at it.

We—running dogs, hunting hounds—we get to see
Only a moment of this drama we play in,
Unaware of Romeo & Juliet wound in each other's arms
In their tomb or in their bed—
Of a great man born, of hundreds drowned,
All of which must be noted, all of which has a place.

And then, in the end, the shaking-sickness will hunt us no longer
If the hunting gun is stored away,
If the hunting gun is no more than a dusty souvenir.
We hunt hard after Meaning—or we submit like lazy, sophisticated children.
So don’t blink—watch, stare, sharpen your pen,
Write because the page is empty,
Because when the throat starts to go dry it wants water!


Burton Raffel, ed. & trans., The Complete Poetry and Prose of Chairil Anwar, Albany: State University of New York Press, [1962], 1970, pp.92-93.