AKU, MEREKA DAN DUNIA: sore ini

Thursday, July 26, 2012

sore ini

sore ini akan jadi sore yang terlalu indah, tidak hadir dalam ruang arya imaginatif, tidak fantasi lebih dari utopis, mereka akan membiarkan untuk burung tak bernyanyi sekalipun, dimana saat matahari bahkan tak menampilkan performa terbaiknya, yang otomatis tak ada sinar yang menemani daun yang sudah mulai lelah terlelap setelah kegiatannya seharian menjadi hiasan indah dunia.

semua masih terlalu indah..

Ps: untuk kamu yang kupeluk sore ini..

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God Speed Insomnia

We have cried — and the gods are silent;

We hve trusted — and been betrayed;

We have loved — and the fruit was ashes;

We have given — the gift was weighed.

We know that the heavens are empty,

That friendship and lvoe are names;

That truth is an ashen cinder,

The end of life’s burnt-out flames.

Vainly and long we have waited,

Through the night of the human roar,

For a single song on the harp of Hope,

Or a ray from a day-lit shore.

Songs aye come floating, marvelous sweet,

And bow-dyed flashes gleam;

But the sweets are Lies, and the weary feet

Run after a marsh-light beam.

In the hour of our need the song departs,

And the sea-moans of sorrow swell;

The siren mocks with a gurgling laugh

That is drowned in the deep death-knell.

The light we chased with our stumbling feet

As the goals of happier years,

Swings high and low and vanishes —

The bow-dyes were of our tears.

God is a lie, and Faith is a lie,

And a tenfold lie is Love;

Life is a problem without a why,

And never a thing to prove.

it adds, and subtracts, and multiplies,

And divides without aim or end;

Its answers all false, though false-named true —

Wife, husband, lover, friend.

We know it now, and we care no more;

What matters life or death?

We tiny insects emerge from earth,

Suffer, and yield our breath.

Like ants we crawl on our brief snd-hill,

Dreaming of “mighty things” —

Lo, they crunch, like shells in the ocean’s werath,

In the rush of Time’s awful wings.

The sun smiles gold, and the plants white,

And a billion stars smile, still;

Yet, fierce as we, each wheels toward eath,

And cannot stay his will.

The build, ye fools, your mighty things,

That time shall set at naught;

Grow warm with the song the sweet Lie sings,

And the false bow your tears have wrought.

For us, a truce to Gods, loves, and hopes,

And a pledge to fire and wave;

A swifter whirl to the dance of death,

And a loud huzza for the Grave!