RESIDUAL LOVE

ON SUNSET, THE SECOND SEASON fall and the strain

And twilight sky, you say, is a blend of stories of hope and longing

scattered between the edge of the horizon to the limit where the light is dimming the sun

We watched the seconds fall with the strains of the past season with soreness

As a melancholy ballad incision violin violinist, sang verse after verse

about romance that float on the extent of view

about the creeps who often miss the tongue-tied freeze

asa of the melted and fell one by one along the way

also on a fragile piece of liver and shoots himself in the night

Overcast and rainy, you say, is a landscape of silence

faintly incarnate in every speck of water hit the glass window

with tears that sprang up on the cliff clear cheek

while the universe as if allied to no matter

such as step, we move, which also tried to neglect

the rustling of the wind rushing and roaring waves slammed the block

because at dusk, rain, falling seconds with the strains of the season

we sang songs together, through the hallway without turning

Cikarang, 111 011

RESIDUAL miss

When hope and illusion terjelmakan not just a part of you

of small dots that glow faintly in the night sky,

then all the dreams we have built up suddenly vanished in the wind

while the flickering of fireflies light still was unable to maintain

and disappeared slowly in silence, in the suffocating darkness

We are witnessing a longing that was once closely in her arms,

float one by one into the arms of the sky with bleary eyes, silent and unwilling.

"I do not know, do you still have the residue dihatimu," you said sadly

For love, you say that again, soon found its form, whenever it comes,

in the dim shadows of your departure

also in quasi real sheen hadirmu

"I do not know," I said bitterly

We would interpret this residual longing, as the painting was engraved imprint everlasting memories hearts

just a scratch or minor injury that would later be recovered and buried with the last time

And in the morning when we both woke up later

I'm sure we'll both smile at the sun at the horizon tinged

the light crept up to the room space under the pillow

guess that's where we keep tidy

the melancholy

the longing ..

Cikarang, 3/2/2012

Amril Taufik Gobel
Photo by: Joseph Yusnawir