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Hasan Aspahani Aug 2017
HE stroked a white cat. The cat slowly turns into a cloud. He was about to cup the cloud but the whole cloud came into his eyes. She became sleepy and fell asleep.

The cloud that had entered his eyes became cloudy outside his eyelids. He dreams about a sheet of sky that will rain. Then woke up with slightly wet eyelashes. But it was not the tears.

HE:
Who cried in my eyes last night?


He did not see, the cat or the cloud wanted to answer but they were stuck in a holy book that on one page of inserted a brochure course an easy way to reach the paradise that has been long past the date of its operation.
Hasan Aspahani Aug 2017
WHERE are they who want thousand bottles of wine?
Just a bunch of cowards and clowns went away...

Fake cartographer and some roadside circus guys

The restraurant's waitress asked them to get home,
Removing lip globs in the corners of their lips ...

Did not know there was a Dead reaching out to the neck,
Did not stop in the marching room of a bottle of wine,
Just a poet on the edge, hiding in the rhyme line!

Where are they who want thousand bottles of wine?
  Aug 2017 Hasan Aspahani
Jamil Massa
My head is a bay. The memory of you like the waves that swarm when the wind switches and the whistle of the ship is sounded. The longitude lines fall on a map, the navigation is helpless when I'm bowed in the presence of your eyes. That eyes which was made from the rainy season.

Your ships contain anxiety, vulnerable content, whereas love is a minor deviation from a cruise line. I am the dock for you. Anchored and wake the seagulls. For a long time no one leaned, or just reminded that the sea is not always blue.

Anchored and wake me up. Because your whisper is more patient than the air that hit the masts. Your presence is the reason why light is never lost at the top of the lighthouse.

Anchored and wake me up. Because the best morning is when my longing is covered with your eyelashes, my sleep is overgrown with black dots that hold your lip line, my vanish is ****** in a trough hidden behind your soul.

Wake me, with the most desolate shaking you have.
(The original version - Indonesian)

Amy, 2

Kepalaku adalah teluk, ingatan tentangmu bak ombak yang meriap saat angin beralih dan peluit kapal dibunyikan. Garis-garis bujur gugur pada selembar peta, navigasi tak berdaya tatkala aku tertunduk di hadapan matamu yang terbuat dari musim hujan.

Kapal-kapalmu berisi kecemasan, muatan yang rentan, padahal cinta adalah penyimpangan kecil dari sebuah jalur pelayaran. Aku adalah dermaga untukmu. Menepilah dan bangunkan burung-burung camar itu. Sudah lama tak ada yang bersandar, atau sekadar mengingatkan kalau laut tak selamanya biru.

Menepilah dan bangunkan aku. Sebab bisikanmu lebih sabar dari udara yang membentur tiang-tiang layar. Kehadiranmu adalah alasan mengapa cahaya tak pernah hilang di puncak mercusuar.

Menepilah dan bangunkan aku. Sebab pagi terbaik adalah ketika rinduku dijatuhi bulu matamu, tidurku ditumbuhi titik hitam yang menahan garis bibirmu, lenyapku adalah tersesap dalam palung yang sembunyi di balik jiwamu.

Bangunkan aku, dengan gemetar paling sunyi yang kau punya.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
THE cypress trees there translate
season into color.

A line of boulevards for guests like
me: a hungry one.

I may know what it is
they plan.

Splash and swish. Sweet. Ripples and
breezy. Lyrical.

After the song I used to remembered
and always wanted to hear.

I may know what it is
whispered the water to the wind.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
THE WORLD is an office asking for your sweat. Before lunch. Officeboy turns off the aircon. Stuck in line in front of the teller. Number is empty, on bank account.

This world is a city asking for your blood. An old friend who grew into someone who was getting less and less understandable. A monster that feeds on its own body parts.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
HE took me
To the dirt road
Along the creek
The flow of time.

We met a child
Who can not swim strongly
But good at fishing.

He took me to the cemetery.
We saw
A child and his father pray
Visiting women
They are very dear

He pulled my hand
To the banana garden
Which bear fruit on long bunches,
And it knows
Will soon be cut down by a machete.

He was lying with me
On a night
And awakened by various things
The scramble wants to be a dream
In a rush sleep.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
: Janet E Steele*

And what is the body? And what is a house?

The body is home to pain,
there was a mouth that held back a scream
there are wounds that show the face of blood

The body is home to the spirit of layover,
and there he felt at home, listening to the song
time, clock & heart rippled


And what is a house? And what is the body?

The house is an area where there is none
the shadow of the body, in a corner
gramophone placed & prayer sent to far.

Home is where you come back
from a small meeting, and there you are
happy, because you have time to say love.
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