Letters for Soe Hok Gie
HERE, in this cemetery, I'm preparing fragments o f memories about your figure, Soe Hok Gie. Inscription in the Museum Park, I saw your grave on which there are little angels with wings was solemn prayer. Perhaps the angel is a personification figure of yours who is on a bye and bye. There was hope and expectation that offered thousands of spells like the spoken to pierce the sky. Similar yourself angel who resided there and occasionally to the ground watching something and then fly there to give the news for the ruler of the universe.
Here, at the funeral Keerkhoof Laan, or who are often called Ginger Garden Kober, I watch your grave. The word many friends, in the land, your bones have long vanished. Friends and family have been pounding it to ashes, dust rawhide and then spread it to the peak Semeru, in the middle stretch of edelweiss, in the midst of white mist Mandalawangi Valley. The Javanese believe in magic as the highest peak Semeru dwelling place of the gods. Bone dust yourself-at least-has become the air in the land of the gods that, you are no longer a figure, but something that gives the breath, bring life, and the flood pulse to penetrate the heart.
I do not care if you are not in this Kober. At least you never lie here at a time, and the tomb was once a trail marker on you. At least I can watch something that is a marker of the atmosphere above you. And in the tomb, I saw your name engraved. Written: Soe Hok Gie, 17 December 1942-16 December 1969. No body knows the troubles, I see no body knows my sorrow.
I was startled to read that last sentence fragment. Grief is the fruit of appreciation. You appreciate this country, evoke love and endless sadness. At the time everyone have fun celebrating independence, you still sad because seeing oppression. As you say, "The most valuable and essential in life is to love, to pity the liver, can suffer grief ..." Love is grieving over this nation.
I had read that sad sentence in your notes. Tonight was a martyr who moves alone and do not want dragged into the mainstream. Love once said, "I decided that I will stick with my principles. Exiled better than surrender to the hypocrisy. "This sentence is so sharp strikes young people like myself who get lazy.
In this city, I live life like a well-established that only can lounge inattentive. No wonder also if you write, "Life now is really boring me. I feel like an old monkey caged in a zoo and not have a job anymore. I want to feel rough and hard life ... rubbed by a cold wind like a knife, cut the woods or walking and bathing in the creek ... people like this we do not deserve to die in bed. "
Yup true. We do not deserve to die in bed. We are young people who salted ocean adventure and burnt by the fire of passion burning. We are young people who spent the night by reading books on philosophy and sunbathe during the day for a claim. However, how far we maintain that spirit flame? Are we too will be transformed into a new bourgeois close only with beer at night and in daylight to dance with pretty girls and then fell asleep while hugging?
In this tomb, I went back thoughtfully. Maybe loneliness is a reasonable price to uphold a sentence of truth. Here I am not trying to find your figure. I'm finding myself a long time to fade somewhere.
By Yusran
Darmawan executive summary by Darmansjah
at tomb Soe Hok Gie
HERE, in this cemetery, I'm preparing fragments o f memories about your figure, Soe Hok Gie. Inscription in the Museum Park, I saw your grave on which there are little angels with wings was solemn prayer. Perhaps the angel is a personification figure of yours who is on a bye and bye. There was hope and expectation that offered thousands of spells like the spoken to pierce the sky. Similar yourself angel who resided there and occasionally to the ground watching something and then fly there to give the news for the ruler of the universe.
Here, at the funeral Keerkhoof Laan, or who are often called Ginger Garden Kober, I watch your grave. The word many friends, in the land, your bones have long vanished. Friends and family have been pounding it to ashes, dust rawhide and then spread it to the peak Semeru, in the middle stretch of edelweiss, in the midst of white mist Mandalawangi Valley. The Javanese believe in magic as the highest peak Semeru dwelling place of the gods. Bone dust yourself-at least-has become the air in the land of the gods that, you are no longer a figure, but something that gives the breath, bring life, and the flood pulse to penetrate the heart.
I do not care if you are not in this Kober. At least you never lie here at a time, and the tomb was once a trail marker on you. At least I can watch something that is a marker of the atmosphere above you. And in the tomb, I saw your name engraved. Written: Soe Hok Gie, 17 December 1942-16 December 1969. No body knows the troubles, I see no body knows my sorrow.
I was startled to read that last sentence fragment. Grief is the fruit of appreciation. You appreciate this country, evoke love and endless sadness. At the time everyone have fun celebrating independence, you still sad because seeing oppression. As you say, "The most valuable and essential in life is to love, to pity the liver, can suffer grief ..." Love is grieving over this nation.
I had read that sad sentence in your notes. Tonight was a martyr who moves alone and do not want dragged into the mainstream. Love once said, "I decided that I will stick with my principles. Exiled better than surrender to the hypocrisy. "This sentence is so sharp strikes young people like myself who get lazy.
In this city, I live life like a well-established that only can lounge inattentive. No wonder also if you write, "Life now is really boring me. I feel like an old monkey caged in a zoo and not have a job anymore. I want to feel rough and hard life ... rubbed by a cold wind like a knife, cut the woods or walking and bathing in the creek ... people like this we do not deserve to die in bed. "
Yup true. We do not deserve to die in bed. We are young people who salted ocean adventure and burnt by the fire of passion burning. We are young people who spent the night by reading books on philosophy and sunbathe during the day for a claim. However, how far we maintain that spirit flame? Are we too will be transformed into a new bourgeois close only with beer at night and in daylight to dance with pretty girls and then fell asleep while hugging?
In this tomb, I went back thoughtfully. Maybe loneliness is a reasonable price to uphold a sentence of truth. Here I am not trying to find your figure. I'm finding myself a long time to fade somewhere.
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