SITOR SITUMORANG [16.481] Poeta de Indonesia

SITOR SITUMORANG

Nació en Sumatra del Norte, Indonesia, el 2 de Octubre de 1923 y murió el 21 de Diciembre 2014. 

Ha publicado:

Libros de poemas:

Surat Kertas Hijau (Green Paper Letters), (1953)
Dalam Sajak (In Poems), (1954)
Wajah Tak Bernama (Face Without a Name), (1955)
Zaman Baru (A New Era), (1962)
Dinding Waktu (Wall of Time), (1977)
Peta Perjalanan (Travel Guide ), (1977) – Poetry Award from Jakarta Arts Council winner
The Rites of the Bali Aga, (1977)
Angin Danau (Lake Wind), 1982
Bunga di Atas Batu: Si Anak Hilang (Flowers on Stone: The Prodigal Son), 1989
Rindu Kelana (To Love, To Wander), 1993 – translated in 1996 by John McGlynn, The Lontar Foundation
Paris La Nuit, 2000
Lembah Kekal (Eternal Valley), 2004
Biksu Tak Berjubah (Monk Without Cassock), 2004
Si Anak Hilang (The Lost Child)

Libros de Cuentos:

Pertempuran dan Salju di Paris (Struggle and Snow in Paris), ( 1956) – winner of Hadiah Sastra Nasional BMKN
Pangeran (The Prince),(1963)

Danau Toba (The Lake Toba),(1981)

EN RESPUESTA A LA CARTA DE MI PADRE

Ya no sirvo

para treparme a un arado.

Cuando Madre murió

escribí un poema

acerca del sufrimiento

que el mundo olvidó enseguida.

Y entonces escribí una historia

acerca de cómo ella se fue al cielo,

y el mundo se movilizó-

Pero acerca de su sufrimiento, ni una palabra.

Y ahora que tú mismo

te estás preparando para la muerte,

¿qué he de escribir?

Busco tu foto

y veo en ella

tanto al General como al Anciano Labrador.

Y recuerdo aquel dicho,

y el poema que reza:

Cuando el general parte para el campo de batalla

no se da vuelta rememorando.

Las espadas y los escudos

están ahora cubiertos de polvo.

Y lo único que queda es que yo escriba:

El poeta ha cruzado el lago a salvo

su botecito en la orilla es como un cascarón...

Traducido del indonesio al inglés por John H. McGlynn.

The Lost Child

In the midday heat

a speck appears on the lake.

The anxious mother runs down to the beach

to welcome her long-awaited child.

The boat takes shape.

As she stares her tears flow -

the child has come back from his journeying.

The moment he sets foot, mother embraces him.

Father sits at the centre of the house

as if he couldn't care less.

The child is crestfallen at his mother's side -

but men know to restrain their feelings.

The child sits down, is told to talk,

a chicken is slaughtered, rice cooks.

The whole village is asking,

'Are you married, any children?'

The lost child has come back

but now he knows no-one.

How many harvests have been and gone?

What has happened?

The whole village is asking,

'Any children, how many?'

The lost child is silent -

He has questions of his own.

At dusk after the meal

his mother moves closer, she wants him to speak.

The child stares, the mother asks

if it is cold in Europe.

The child is silent, remembering forgotten things -

the cold of Europe, the seasons of its cities.

His mother is quiet, has ceased talking -

no resentment, only joy.

Night has come, mother is asleep,

father has been snoring some time.

The waves swish on the beach.

They know the child has not returned.

This poem is taken from his collection of 1955, Dalam Sajak.

Balige

I feel like nothing's changed

in this small city

though it's half a century since

I first entered school here

I feel like nothing's changed

though I know much has

like the heart

of my equivocating heart

Γve come home

yet not come home

to a place left very much behind

before

on one sharp certain morn

Translated by A. L Reber

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