Hujan dan Kertas

Fallen leaves of autumn, it may swollen by numbers as weeks go by.
No more songs of the nightingales, only mere larks' chirps in the night
Thy songs of desperations, O larks, art those lies? A sublime message of the sky?
I shall believe thy lullaby, for I am in needs of a light.
A beacon on the seashore, for I cannot find a way home. A night's candles which shed a light on a gloomy heart.
A long time have I been trapped in this dark room.
The lark's song, a mere sound I hear, held dearest as if it's the only cure of sad.
O gods of the night, thou shall convey thine enormous words.
Let the sun be arise, let secrets be unspoken!
For I am unmanned, unmended, and unmade of my unsheathed sword.
O gods of the night, let the curse be broken!
For I shall travel far and away to buds of May.
And with empty heart I cannot love nor live, nay!


March 21, 2011
Aji
03.21 AM