I remember spring in Philly
I still could smell
the freshness of the newly grown grass
after the soft rain at Sugarloaf.
Soon that beautiful greenfield
would be full with fellows’ feet,
who’d kick the ground rather than the ball.
Ah, the noise, the laughters,
they are echoing in my emptiness of mind.
“Watch out, window keeper!”
that scream seems alive in my ears.
The ball hit the window glass.
Even then, among such a loud group
I was in emptiness of mind.
Someone was always missing.
Ah, he must be still filling out dozens of pink forms,
which showed how many sponsors you’d got.
“So, they buy you?” I asked.
“I hope I am bought,” he answered.
He always had the right answer.
I was sad
Am I, or is Indonesia, that bad?
I’ve got only one pink form
An elderly writer named “Friend’ sponsored me
and gave me a ‘very polite kiss’ at the farewell
I wonder, what did he think he had invested in me?
“Watch out! ….. BANG!”
the ball once again hit the window glass.
Where was I?
Where were you,
the man, who smelled like all seasons?
It’s summer now in Surabaya
I love the heat, I m drowned in my sweat.
Like the water in Potomac River, I am flowing in chaotic traffics
floating in its air pollution.
But I miss those wet windy nights in Philly
I miss all those friendly faces, which warmth defeated the cold.
I miss the nights we danced, sang, or shared jokes
Oh, how much I miss the beauty of the cherry blossoms in DC
I miss the colours of spring
I remember touching every blooming flower I saw in San Fransisco Garden
(we don’t have that in this part of the world,
in here everything is green, green, and green).
I remember seeing the remaining snow in exotic dry and bare trees
in a quiet peaceful place named Grand Forks
“We have late winter,” they said, yes, winter in mid April
so freezing, almost unbearable.
But the hope of meeting you at the Grand Canyon
kept me going.
Now, in the heat of this summer sunshine in Surabaya
I wish I stayed till the autumn comes,
and I’ll choose Manhattan, Central Park.
I’ll play with the bright and brisky falling leaves on the ground,
creating wonderful sounds when you step on them.
Like musics, reminding me of the Turkish-Salsa,
Irish folk songs, African beat,
and “Desperado”
Yes, I still hear the noise, the laughters,
at Sugarloaf field
at our long nights and crazy parties,
and I will always keep your smiles in the deepest corner of my heart
ready to open when the day’s gloomy and I feel so blue
I know I’ll find comfort in you.
Where were you and where are you, I’ll never know.
Across the oceans, mountains, and deserts,
I still could smell the smell of you
because you bring the fragrance of all seasons
Sirikit 2004
