the curiousity within
Bakung Kuning
kelabu pagi, segalanya kelabu
begitu dingin ini musim semi semu
angin timur suram di tanah menyapu
segalanya sendu
kelabu langit, ladang kelabu
bukit, hutan, pepohonan
pucat dalam hembusan kelabu
mencekam di dekat dan jauh
kelabu bantal, karpet kulit kelabu
nampan anyaman gelap kelabu
tudung dan jubah kekasih kelabu
mantel dan topi pula kelabu
jalan setapak sepi kelabu
hai, di gerbang kelabu
di samping kayu kelabu
duduk seorang lusuh
tangan layu menyilang dagu coreng
ia duduk dan bersiul nyaring
dalam tudungnya yang moreng:
sekuntum bakung kuning
ketika segalanya membosankan
aku bagai melihatnya sering
wajah lusuh dengan kebahagiaan
dan bakung kuning
Sumber:
Yellow Daffodil
Horace Smith (1779 – 1849)
Gray was the morn, all things were gray,
T’was winter more than spring;
A bleak east wind swept o’er the land,
and sobered everything.
Gray was the sky, the fields were gray,
The hills, the woods, the trees -
Distance and foreground – all the scene
Was gray in the gray breeze.
Gray cushions, and a gray skin rug,
A dark gray wicker tray,
Gray were the ladies’ hats and cloaks,
And gray my coat and cap.
A narrow, lonely, gray old lane;
and lo, on a gray gate,
Just by the side of a gray wood,
A sooty sweep there sat!
With grimy chin ‘twixt grimy hands
He sat and whistled shrill;
And in his sooty cap he wore
A yellow daffodil.
And often when the days are dull,
I seem to see him still -
The jaunty air, the sooty face -
And the yellow daffodil.
Printed in the Autumn, 2003 edition of ”This England”
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