舊日本銀行廣島支店：廣島核爆後少數殘存的建築物之一
廣島吾愛
--Goenawan Mohamad (1941- )，羅浩原 譯
妳彷彿在洗滌我
在嗖嗖冒出的煙霧中
對我行蒸汽浴
「啊
這樣做
彎下去
快點」
妳是否意識到
我越陷越深
迷戀渴望
對妳的身體是又惱又疼？
想必沒有
但那雄鹿的麝香
痲瘋般腥紅的夜晚
呻吟滴汗
蔓延著黑暗
然後風息了
接著我們訴說彼此的故事
我不知為何妳說起了廣島
「你聽我說——我生於1965年12月26日
承襲了
那痛苦的陰影
那烙印在、殘留在
一片碎石殘礫間的銀行
那炸彈在空中爆炸後的陰影」
妳來自天堂？
「我來自北方」
我這才感到我們很幸福
妳覺得那是週五
我想我記得那已是週六
總之分秒停止不前
時鐘不再滴答作響
只聽得
衣衫墜落
扣子崩開
和那敞開的鏡像，哎！
這空氣
這感覺
至大至巨
妳的微笑已知道
誰將會進入妳的熾熱中
我將舌頭抽離了
妳的上顎
「你知道我祖父是誰嗎？」
我當然不知道。他是誰？
「他以前是憲兵隊的長官
派駐在南方的國度
他曾強姦過一名少年
當晚就把他絞死了」
啊，剛剛我才說過
我們很幸福
「對，但夜晚還剩一半
月亮如此緩慢
像個能劇演員」
現在
妳垂下了長髮
黑得與夜來香的枕頭如此相稱
我們不是在很早就認為
頂上並沒有天堂
而妳、我、與他們，也沒人在追尋
Hiroshima, Cintaku
--Goenawan Mohamad (1941- )
Seperti kau basuh aku
dalam desah asap
saunamu.
“Ah,
lakukan,
lekukkan,
lekaskan.”
Sadarkah kau
kian kubenamkan
kangen
ke gemas tubuhmu?
Mungkin tidak.
Tapi harum kelenjar rusa jantan
merah mengusta malam
lenguh dan peluh
merambat gelap
Dan angin jadi lambat.
Setelah itu kita saling bercerita
Dan aku tak tahu kenapa kau bercerita tentang Hiroshima
“Dengarlah. Aku lahir 26 Desember 1965-
Titisan
dari bayang-bayang kesakitan
yang membekas, tersisa
di puing lantai bank
ketika bom itu pecah ke cuaca”
Kau datang dari surga?
“Aku datang dari utara”
Aku baru tahu bahwa kita berbahagia.
Kaurasa hari itu Jumat
Kurasa kuingat Sabtu
Apapun detik tak bersaat
Jam tak mengadu
Yang telah kudengar
adalah kain yang jatuh
kancing yang runtuh
dan cermin yang membuka, aduh
Hawa,.
rasa,
magma,
senyummu yang tahu
siapa yang akan datang ke panas suhumu
Lalu kulepaskan lidahku
Dari langit-langitmu.
“Tahukah kau siapa kakekku?”
Tentu saja aku tak tahu. Siapa dia?
“Ia seorang komandan Kenpetei
di sebuah negeri Selatan
yang memperkosa seorang pemuda dan
menggantungnya di sore hari”
Ah, tapi tadi aku telah berkata
bahwa kita berbahagia
“Ya. Tapi malam tinggal separoh
dan bulan pelan
seperti pemain Noh”
Kini
kau gelarkan rambutmu,
hitam, hitam seragam pada bantal sedapmalam
Bukankah sudah lama kita duga
di loteng ini tak ada surga
dan kau, aku, mereka, tak mencarinya.
1989-1990
Goenawan Mohamad, Asmaradana: Pilihan Sajak, 1961-1991, Jakarta: Gramedia Widiasarana Indonesia, 1992, pp. 96-98.
Hiroshima, mon Amour
--Goenawan Mohamad, translated by John H. McGlynn
It was as if you cleansed me
in the susurrant cloud
of your sauna
“Yes
now do it,
now kneel,
now, now…”
And are you aware
I planted
my longing
in the pining of your flesh?
Probably not.
But a musky fragrance and
the night, a leprous red
spread stealthily
through gasps and drops of sweat
And the wind died.
After which we traded tales
And I don't know why, but you talked of Hiroshima
"Listen to me — I was born December 26, 1965.
Offspring
of the remnants of power
what remained
in the rubble of a bank floor
after the bomb exploded midair."
Are you from heaven?
“I am from the north.”
Only now I know that we were happy.
You thought it was Friday
I seemed to remember Saturday.
Regardless, the seconds didn't tick
The clock did not complain.
What I heard was the sound
of falling clothes
popping buttons
and a mirror as it was opened, my God.
The air,
the feeling,
the magma,
and your smile revealing
who was to enter the heat of you
Then I released my tongue
from the roof of your mouth.
“Do you know who my grandfather was?”
Of course I don’t. Who was he?
“A commander of the Japanese Military Police
in one of those countries to the south
who raped a young man one day
and hanged him that same evening.”
But earlier I said
we were happy
“Yes, but only a half night remains
and the moon is as slow
as a Noh actor.”
And now
you let down your hair,
so black, so evenly black
on a pillow of tuberoses
Don’t we so long suspect
there is no heaven above
and you, and I, and they, are not looking for it.
John H. McGlynn & Leila S. Chudori, ed., Menagerie 2: Indonesian Fiction, Poetry, Photographs, Essays, Jakarta: The Lontar Foundation, 1993, p.143-145.
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