ontemporary Progressive Indonesian Poetry
5%6-164
CONTEMPORARY PROGRESSIVE INDONESIAN POETRY
to my wile Suwarti and Sibi who did most of the work.
ontemporary Progressive Indonesian Poetry
Tronsloted and edited with an Introduction
league of people's culture — indonesia — a few words of introduction
Modern Indonesion literature, that is, literature written in Bahasa Indonesio (the Indonesian Language) is of relative recent date. Bohoso Indonesia — the nalional language of the 97 million Indonesion people inhobiting 3,000 of the more than 10,000 bigger and smoller islands constituting the Republic of Indonesia — is closely related to the struggle for national independence waged by the Indonesian people for seores of years.
When, of the turm of the present century, this struggle for nationhood and for a notional state began to take on moders forms with the emergence of the first notional workera' organisation, the Trade Union of Roilrood ond Trom Personnel (1905) and the first nationalist organisation. the "Budi Utomo" (1908) and then political parties like the Sjorikot Islom (Islom Associction) in 1912, the Indies Social Democratic Union (1914). forerunner of the Communist Party of Indonesia (1920), Bahasa Indonesia, too. began to take shape.
Originally a longuoge spoken by the Melayu nationality in Sumatera and for hundreds of years used in a simplified form throughout the Indonesian archipelogo os the lingua franca, the Melayu language. which beors close affinity to the language of the Malay Peninsula, was destined by history to play a deciaive role in the lormdion of the Indonesian sation. Prom the language of a minority, this Melayu language, in the course of the struggle for national independence grew into a full-fledged national lamguage recognised today as the official language of the Indonesian people.
In this book Indonesian Society and the Indonesian Revolution, D.N. Aidit, dwelling on the yeomon service rendered by Bahosa Indonesia in forming the Indonesian nation. observed : "A most interesting thing is that Babasa Indonesia does not originate from the language of the largest nationality (le. the Javanese naticnality omounting to about 63 million — BS). This language has never throughout history been the language of colonisers: on the contrary, it is a language which unites more than one hundred nationalities.
Bahasa Indonesia is a language which has been forged in the struggle for national independence, it is the language of the liberator."
Moderm Indonesian literature did not appear on the literory scene as a competitor of the centuries-old literotures of the Jovonese. Sundanese, Melayu, Balinese, Bugis and other nationalities. The reverse is true. Modern Indonesion literoture embodies the finest anti-feudal, anti-colonial and popular traditions of the local literatures. It enriched ita vocabulary and form by drawiny on the old literatures. and in its turn, made these literatures knowa and loved by all the nationalities inhabiting Indonesia.
Instrumental in developing the national language were the novels and articles of one of Indonesio's first novelists, pomphleteers and Journalists, the working-class leader. Marco Karrodikromo. His novels "Amuck" (1914). "Freshman" (1919). "The Feeling of Freedom" (1920) and his "Verses of Spices" (1921) and especially his speech at the Congress of Indonesian Journalists in Solo. 1919, in which he exhorted his fellow journalists and writers "to write in good Indomesian", exerted a great influence on the developing Bahasa Indonesia. His novels "Freshman" and "The Feeling of Freedom". because of their revolutionary and anti-colonial spirit, were banned by the Dutch authorities. and Indonesians. especially the students. had to read these novels in secret up till the thirties. The Indonesion literary critic Bakri Siregar and the well-known contemporory novelist and essayist Pramudya Ananta Tur place Marco Kortodikromo, who died in exile in the late twenties in West Irian. at the very origin of modern Indonesian literature.
In 1928, on October 28. Bahasa Indonesia guined the official recogmition of the national movement when the Indonesion youth. gothered in a congress, solemnly declored that they belong to one fatherland. Indonesian, to one nation, the Indonesion nation, and speck one common language, Bahara Indonesia.
Following Marco Kartodikromo in writing novels in Indonesian were Semaun with "Hikajot Kodirun" (1920) and especiolly Marah Rusli and Abdul Muis secured themselves a lasting ploce in Indonesian literature with their novels "Sii Nurbaya" and "Salah Aguhan" (Wrong Upbringing) dealing with the resistance against feudal family relationshipa and forced marriage.
In the 1930's some intellectuals, the poet Muhammed Yomin, the essayist Amir Sjarifuddin, the poet Amir Homzah, the novelist Tokdir
Alishohbona and the Pane (Sanusi and Armija) beothers founded the literory magozine "Pudjanggo Baru~ (New Bard). The novela, ploys and poetzy of thot period vividly describe the efforts of Indonesion intellec.uals to find their ploce in the struggle for national independence and the renovotion of Indonesiom caltura! life. Two contradictory trends ore characteristic of the "Pudjangga Baru" writers — those who looked for salvation for their cultural needs moinly from the West and who denied the existence of an Indonesion culture (Alishahbano) and those who orientoted themselves to the notional cultural heritage (Yamin and the Pane brothers). The social element reached its highest literary expression in Sanusi Pane's play "Monusia Baru" (New Man). depicting the struggle between workers and employers. Becouse of the Dutch censorship. the outhor had to set the action in Indian surroundings.
A subsequent period in Indonesian literature was the period of the Jopanese militory occupation of Indonesia during 1942-1945, In this period Bahosa Indonesia made great headway, becoming as it did an effective weopon for the Indonesiam people in defending and upholding their notional dignity against the master race theory of the Japanese foscists. Though officially Indonesian literature was only allowed to sing the praise of the Japanese invaders and serve their "Greater Asio" dreams. Indonesian writers managed to produce a number of potriotic shert stories and poems. A case in point in Chairil Anwar's poem "Diponegoro". M.S. Ashar's "Awaiting the Down", however, could not escape the attention of the Japanese censorship and could only be printed after the Japamese had surrended.
The Proclomotion of Independence on August 17, 1945, for which the Indonesian people had beem preparing for decades. threw the gates ior crealive literary work wide open. Bahasa Indonesia sang for and about the Revolution. and. freed from Dutch suppression and Japanese tuteloge, it flourished and acquired a real moss basis.
The revoluticnary period (1945-1948) produced a number of poets. ploywrights and essayists known as the "Generafion of 1845". Reored by the struggle for naticaal independence and inspired by heroism of their people. these young people' used the power of expression of Bahaza Indonesia to further increase the revolutiozary ardour of the people. Poets Chairil Anwar, Rivai Apin, Bandaharo, Buyung Saleh, Asrul Sani. Sitor Situmorang and the woman poet Rukiah Kertopati, novelist Pramudya Ananta Tur, short story writers
Uamar Ismael. Bachtiar Siagian. Bakri Siregar, to mention only α few, brought Bahasa Indonesia to new heights ond firmly estobiished it as the literary languoge of the Indonesion people. They succosafully explored the possibilities hidden in Sahoso Indonesic and gave the lie to the numerous scepties who asserted that the national language waa "too simple, too underdeveloped and too primitive grammatically to be used to express the finest and deepest stirrings of the human soul". Chairil Anwar's "Between Krowang and Bekosi" and Ananta Tur'a "Stories of Blora"are fine examples of the flexi-
As a whole, the "Generation of 1945" remained faithful to the source from which Bahasa Indonesia criginated and drew its atrength —the revolutionary movement for national independence — and devoted their talents and energies and even their lives to helping the people consolidate their hard-won freedom and build a notional culture. Apart from the cynicism. intellectualism. scepticism and individualism which characterises the works of some of the "Generation of 1945" like Idrus. Rosihan Anwar and Mochtor Lubis and the somewhat anarchistic tendencies in some of Chairil Anwor's poems, the bulk of the "Generation of 1945" rejecied the theory of "ari for art's sake".
The picture changed. however. when the 1945-1948 Revolution ended in political compromise with the Dutch in 1949, the year of the signing of the Round Table Conference Agreement. This agreement which restored Dutch political. economic and cultural indluence in Indonesio. created confusion too, in the minds of cultural workers and a period of disillusionment, bewilderment and uncertain:y set in in the field of creative thinking. In line with the de-nationalising activities of the Dutch Inatitute for Cultural Co-operation (Sticusa) and American organisations such as the Ford and Rockefeller Foundations, a number of western-orientated Indonesions like Alishahbana, Rosihan Anwar, Sudjotmoko and Mochtor Lubis. utilising the confusion in which the majority of Indonesion cultural workers found themselves, tried to delach Indonesian art and literature from its life-giving source, the people ond the revolution. by roising the alogans "pure art", "art without politics", etc.
This situation prompted progressive writers and artists to rally together in an eflort to coatain the flood of anti-national, antirevolutionary and imperialist culture. A bitter struggle ensued against the demoralising and undermining effects of imperialist infiltration in the field of culture and in the course of this struggle the League of People's Culture (LEKRA) was born in 1950. LEKRA. which rallies some of the finest crective talents of the Indonesian nation, udheres to the principle thot art and science should serve the people and that culturol workers should artistically express the aapirations of the people.
With the adoplion in 1959 of the Political Manilesto of the Republie of Indonesia — a document eathusiastieally orelaimed by virtuelly all Indonesion cultural workers — which states among other things thot the cim of Indonesia's national and domocratie revolution is the setting up of a unitorian and democratie republic, the building up ol a just and prosperous society (Socialism) on Indonesiam soil and the establishmen! of friendly ties wiih all nations of the world for a New World free from colonialism and imperialism, Indonesian cultural workers have obtained a powerful weapon in the still raging batile ogainst the proponents of "art for art's aake", "art without politics", and "art for those who understand it".
The present volume decis exclusively with postry since poetry is the most populor bronch of literature in Indonesia. It is the
Love for poetry is one of the mational charateristics of the Indo nesion people ond perhaps in no other country of the world is poeiry procticed on such a mass-scale, especially among the younger generation. as in Indonesia.
Indicative of this is the fact tha: for any newspapes in Indonesia to be sucoesstul it must, at least once a week, put a cultural page at the disposal of its readers, and invariably the greater part is filled with poems. Another "must" for Indonesian papers is a "Youth Column", a forum for young people to publiah their literary products, cnd here too. most of the space is devoted to poetry. The Radio Republik Indonesia runs a special program entiled "Blossoming Buds" devoled (o analysing poems sent in by young people from all over the country, to help them improve their style and guide them in the choice of words and subjects.
This great interest in and preference for poetry rests on a firm popular basis. Indonesians do not look on poetry as something one proctices occasionally, or something that should be left to the professional poets. No. poetry ia part and porcel of daily Indonesian life. Put some Indonesians together and before long they will slort to improwise on the spot verses alluding to the cause of their gothering. making love, criticising and giving counsel in versified form. The vehicle used to express these impromptu feelings is the pontun, a verse of four lines, sometimes in a.a.a.a, but generolly in a.b.o.b. thyme pattern. The first two lines of the panrun bear no visible relation, either in meoning or in lext, to the last two lines. yet on eloser examination it becomes clear that the first two lines ore. a a rule, used to create a setting. a specific cimosphere for the idea introduced in the lost two lines. The following "clossic" pontun may serve as an exomple :
Terang bulan terang dikali Buaja timbul disangka mati Djangan perijaja mulut lelaki Berani sumpah takut mati
The full moon shines on the river A crocodile. seemingly dead. floats on the water Do not trust the mouth of a man He's beave in words but afraid to die.
The full moon evokes a sense of serenity, the crocodile, however. that of suspense and distrust. By means of this device, the women who sings or reciles this panfun wishes to worn her sex not to trus! men, Indonesion women, it seems, wholeheortedly ogree to Shakespeare's Balthasar that:
Men were deceivers ever One foot in sea, and one on shore To cne thing constant never.
However, the men thus exposed, may take up the challenge by using the Sundanese pantun —the Indonesian we give on the right—
Ada listrik dimeadjit Aja listrik dimasigit Tjoangna kabina-bina Terangnja luarbiasa Aja istri ahli teknik Ada isteri ahli teknik Rentjana pasti djadina Rentjana pasti djadimja
In the mosque there's plenty of electric light Setting everything in radiant shine There's a technician's wide Rest assured, she will realise her design. Pontuns ore not only used for purely "personal" motives but ore olso skillfully employed in social criticism as the following Meloyu panfun shows: Mentjompak sampai kehulu kenalah udang diseberang Apalah tjupak oleh penghulu mempermoinkan undang-undang? Throw something across the river And you will hit a crab What's the yordslick for a mosque scrivener When he treats the law like so much scrap? or to express certain political ideas: Mondar-mondir perahu ladju Mondar-mandir ke Surabaja Menang di Kuba karena bersatu Ameriko Lotin don Asia-Afrika. The little boot sails there and back And reaches Surabaya In Cuba they repelled the attack Latin Americo being united with Afro-Asia.
As a rule pantuns cre not written down since they are created on the spot and on the spur of the moment. They are memorised and handed on from mouth to mouth. It is only of late that efforts have been made to collect and publish pantuns, notably by the daily "Horion Rakjat". from all parts of the country and from every nationality.
We have dealt of great length with the panfun to show that it is not fortuitous that the Indonesian people have a strong preference for poetry over the other branches of literature. Their love for poetzy stems from the age-long tradition of the pantun.
Modern Indonesian poetry. that is. verse written in Bahosa Indonesia and not bound by the troditional ponfun form s:yle to appear during the early twenties of this century.
Muhammad Yamin, who published a collection of poems in Bohasa Indonesia in 1922, is not only the first Indonesiam poet to have written his verses in Bahosa Indonesia but also the first to have discarded the panfun and other troditionol forms for the sonnet form.
The second poet to write modern verse in Indonesion is Roestom Elfendi, who was soon followed by the poet-playwright Sonusi Pone. Of thia trio, often called the pre-Pudiangga Baru Poets. Pane is the most important for his style, richness of languoge and artistic expression. The pre-Pudjanggo Baru poets, as is the cose with the great majority of later poets, were active porticiponts in the struggle for national independence. The conflict which orose omong the Pudjangga Baru men of letters over orientation — should it be to Westerm or to Indonesia's own caltural traditions ? — is also roflected in the works of the Pudjangga Baru poets Amir Homzah, Aliahahbana, M. R. Dajoh. Asmara Hadi and Iatojo. Amir Hamzoh. the most productive of the period, is essentially a religious poet who shunned the realiiy of the political and social struggle and as a result rarely rises above the "God-man" relotionship. M. R. Dajoh who, unlike the bulk of the Pudjanggo Bara poets. did not hoil from Sumatera but from Sulawesi (Celebes). distinguished himself by the subject matter of his poems which intercede for the poor, disinherited common people. His compossion for the exploited is best manilested in his poem "Child Labour". The poetry ol Aamara Hadi (South Sumatera) and Intojo (ol Javanese nationality) is pervaded wih revolutionary ardour and militancy.
A virtual revelution in pceticstyle and form was eflocted by the "Generation of 1945". The poets of this group conaidered themselves no longer bound by the forms established by the Pudjangga Baru poets. The dominant form of poems — and this is still valid today - became the "free verse", free from end-thyme. free in form, free from static measures and troditional methaphores yet abounding in melody and rhythm. Others. weary of the well-polished and smooth verses of the preceding generation, not always equally succeasful, produced verses which, though in form do not resemble poetry, are full ol postic beauty and power. Chairil Anwar's verse
"1943", α verse of 29 lines of which 21 lines consist of one aingle. forceful word, is illustrative of this trend.
Among the best known poets of the "Gemeration of 1945" are and Rukioh Kertapati.
Contemporary Progreasive Indonesian Poetry aims at acquainting the English-reading public with the work of those Indonesian poets who adhere to the principle thut art should serve the people and that Indonesian cultural workers should stand in the foremost ranks in implementing the goals set by the Political Momifesto. In selecting the moterial — taken from the cultural magozine "Zaman Baru", and the cultural pages of the dailies "Harian Rakjat" and "Bintang Timur" — the editor deliberately limited himself to the years 1955. 1961. the period in which the Indonesiam people, as President Sukorno puts it. "rediscovered their identity and their revolution".
Though not all poems selected are of equally high literary achievement, they show the subjects. the aspirations and the yearnings living omong the Indonesian people that prompted the poets to write their verses. The poems selected are the works of poets — many of them under or just over thirty years of age — hailing from Indonesia's different nationalilies and prove that, mext tospecking their own respective local languages. these posts find in Bahoso Indonesio the instrument por excellence to express their innermost feelings.
This selection speaks of the heroie struggle of the people againat Dutch-supported native feudalism bedore 1945 —"Malia Lehi", ef socrifice for the Revolution — "Fallen in Botile". moments of griet — "My Father". temporury dejection — "The Anchor Chain Is Broken", and of supreme convic:ion in the rightecus struggle and unshakable loyolty to ideols —"No One Shall Return". The poems sing of the basic forces of the Indonesian Revolution, the real masters of the land. the workers and the peasants, about their hardships, their troubles, their joy in struggle and their ultimatn victory — "The Downtrodden Shoulder Freedom", "Death of a Peasant". The womenpoets Sugiarti Siswadi and Rukiah Kertapati take pride in the role Indonesian women have played and are playing in the struggle and possionately defend the rights of women to live as human beings — "Women". "Indictment". Love and the fight for ideals.
13gave birth to "Revolution" and "Young Man". whereas "Sompit" gives the reader a glimpse of the unlimited and untapped resources of Indonesia's natural wealth. It tells the foreign reader of the current struggle for democracy, "Challenge", "Democracy" and the fight against terrorist gangs to restore security in the countryaide, "Native Village", and exposure of the counter-revolutionaries "Granite Wall". A number of poems in this selection express very well the deep feelings of solidarity, sympothy and cne-ness with the struggle of other peoples, especially in Asia and Africa. fot national independence. peace and a better world. "Scarlet Red", "Jamila".
In short, imperlect as this selection may be, it gives the reader a glimpse of the problems and ideals that stir progressive Indonesian poets of today. It is testimony of the fact that Bahoso Indonesia has become the inalienable properly of Indonesians of all notionolities and minority groups (see Explanatory Notes), it substantiotes the faet that progressive Indonesian poets ore consciously-living citizens, striving for national and international solidarity and co-operation, dedicating their creative abilities and talents to build a happy life, not only for their own people, but for all peoples of the world, to build the better world which the best poels of the world have been singing of and dreaming about throughout the ages.
Djakarta, Moy 8. 1962.
coming of age
it was born thirty-live years ago from the pains of the most progressive class a child of an era that will give birth to an era
braving tempests lulled not by the breeze it penetrated inio the people's heart deeper than the sea of Banda adorning life more becutiful than the chempaka blossom
it lives from life withstanding terror and provocation yesterday. today. tomorrow it is Anteneus. son of Poseidon Invincible as long as it stays faithful to the earth child of an era that will give birth to an erd now it has come of age.
the only road
wornout boots stuck in the mud on the path leading to the hut water drips down from the roof soiling my most cherished possessions the lessons of germany. britain, france, russin, china and many more thoughts of the best sons of the world
my wife sleeps again after answering the door the silence outside helps me the further night proceeds the more I become abscrbed I remember the oath of fidelity to their teachings the crowing of the cock doesn't startle me the daya and nights are all alike the road they've shown is aiways bright
we shall surely reach the end of this road no wonout boots are there no sticky mud no leaking huts but only this, the only road.
granite wall
with bayonets you raised the diehards lo sit with the people and me
you hope to retard the sweep of history not knowing tis you who are doomed
you hope to repea: the outdated tale of Nero in forty-eight of Mogelang and Ngalian but you forget Amir and Hadji Bakri and the peasants dividing land in Wonogizi and Bojolali
the march of history will trample the diehards and the bayonets will break a granite wall is harder than a skull of stones the granite wall of a people united.
sad memories of a tjiandjur peasant
bright are the Tjiandjur skies, the fertile soil binds the peasant sadri, an old peasant, owns a plot of land his lide is harmonious. peoceful. becutiful blosscming like the seasons
the banana ripens, the cranges, the papayos Eittering the branches, flagront overripe ask sadri when he will pick them and he replies when my son comes home from the battle
ah, the sweet fragrance of the fruit moistens the tongue the orchards flourish on the rich Periangan soil beloved land, united, defying the splitters fulh of becuty, fertility, but what of the heart ?
II
sadri waits with pounding heart his eyes glued to the southern skies the flames leap up high α brutal force is burning peace
lovely Periomgon. burning. reddened by fire the peasants trapped, scorched on their native earth comrades, brothers, against this challenge the will is wupreme resistance, revenge in every heart
the crops. the cranges and the papayas once overripe and weighing down the trees lie destroyed, overrun by fize and thousands of lives nipped in the bud.
life
life does not depend on some external force it must be grasped by we who live it bears fruit that growa from within ripening slowly but never for a moment still
life is as vast as the raging seas but it flows not on Its own, it must be steered advancing towards an objective firmly and accurotely aimed
lale is a vost flood of water green and blue, its depth can be gauged not veiled in mystery but with fineries interwoven and things that are important for you and me.
the society of my class
udin. seventeen times you have been kicked cround eight times you have dragged your bruised body away forty-five times perhaps kieked from pillar to post when you visit your home in no rhan's land you'll be driven away on the morrow to tears and wails but tears and abuse are of no avail becouse there it is still : the busile of lide under the bridge
udin. endure the kicks and the knocks do not soy : where next shall I be thrown. but contoin your vengeance till ia hardens as the river stones till the time comes : victory or death
oh. my country, only part of it feels the touch of the sum's golden breath the other lives in darkness, touched by the wind of death such are the extremes between the high and low in a society split into classes since times of yore the society of my class, long have I dreamed of the sunrays of a future for udin and for the others who yearm for friendly love binding equals to each other ah. how black and soiled it ia today but woit, for the boil will burst, molten fire will burst forth the time will come when the enemy meets death at the point of the dagget the battles for the people were not in vain they have fertilised the sturdy seedling planted by lenin
udim, wait, for the boil will burst all of a sudden the wheel of history will surely turn round effacing the darkness and the wind of death and for my class only the golden sunrays.
the anchor chain is broken
everyone feels it
the links in the chain break one by one
and each time one breaks
anxiety grips the heart of the passengers
and finally all will break
the links in the chain break one by one and breath too goes one by one each minute, each second
who knows when all this will end elegy
what we feel we need not siate
what we think we need not soy
do no: grieve — let us proceed
we bring this truth to its stor and its earth
one vision of the parched lands drying up then suffocating our breast
we do know, since we have preserved one of your words
oh, your memory will forever hount us
terrifying like the shodows in a shaky hut when the oil-lamp is lit
yet full of love like the father's with hands cutstretched
and you'll come back like of old when you and this soil
vibrate with life
we shall not forget you the time you were hunted and hunting — because what we are hunting and running for
to thot you dedicated your life
and we who view your merits
know well, as you too know. that there's no other deity or god worth living for:
let the tempest blost this barren field yet our steps are planted in the scorched land where you lie deeply buried keeping alive the flame and we that stand here are fire! we preserve life in thia night, the night that bears the noon we ore the children of one father we are the children of one mother ond death for us is but a matter of time yet we. preserve all one god
the younger will come, the elder has gone we lift the parched land, these barren lands the burden's weigh!, the aching of shoulders that carry the bitterness of hearts defected will lead the love of the faith that we profess.
peking
do not say that the might is as hard as granite since here in china not a stone is left unworked by the peoplo here mature is like marble
everything is carved and polished by the hands of working people building culture
II
the cruel peking wind has no equal the nights are heavy with dust. yet from bustling cracks the rumble of mountain rocks being split booms forth in the night the whirlwind gathers strength and still people are at work tempering the steel from the stones split in the night is born the morning twinkling and the fountain of sparks forged by the blows of the smith are the stars in the sky, the medals of the workers.
the downtrodden shoulder freedom
we the downtrodden shoulder freedom without rank, nameless we've kept our country from becoming a prison
we poasess nothing but ninety million burning hearts do not try to keep us still loar lies buried under barren hills
we possess nothing but burning hearts that seek no reward we guard the islands that kiss the beloved sea we fight for wages and land of freedom
we possess nothing but burning hearts roughened by suffering that may turn inio lava, fire and thunder destroying foes, grinding them to dust jamila
the worid did once inflict a wound but understanding rose from within
another drow as night did fall and away she flung the world full of wrath
one touch of light in the soldier's breast and willingly she accepted death for she herself is the world cnd holds life in her hand for she herself is the native land and the fruit of love
another touch came down a: dawn and she defended all her dreams
the world has inflicted a wound but consciousness was conceived within its womb
one draw of breath in the soldier's breast and she did profess herself alowly but without complaint for she herself is time and the blaze in.the sahara for she herself is liberty and freedom in imogination
but she herself is the world and holds life in her hands.
to people's bandung
wherever they comie from. the people are the people wherever they are. times are with the people and the wind touches every bossom: the free heart of africa the revolutionary heart of asia
those who have come are lovers, fighters all children of the sun sporks of multi-coloured fireworks and the colour grows at the waist of the mountain and embraces'the faith of bandung
those who are here are all beloved, are fire all children of the earth who with flowers combat death and the flower grows at the wais: of the mountain and embeace the solidarity of bamdung
wherever they come from, the people ore the people wherever they are, times are with the people and the wind touches the free heart: the song of revolution peace in all the world.
native village
when evening falls the village lies deseried and the villagers fence themselves in engulfed by fear
for soon the fiend will encircle their dwellings
this land was once peaceful and safe man grew up surrounded by love but that's a cherished memory now when death stalks the land when rifle shots fired by terrorists resound from house to house
this beloved land of mine
has today become my prison
the days pile up revenge
and common folk have become each other's alayer.
freedom and prison
its not because you do not need to search for freedom for you are freedom itself its nct because the paltry judges do not need to threaten jail for peltiness of soul is put in prison this is not the reason why we speak of freedom ond imprisonment
dishonesty of hearts and turbidity of eyes turn freedom into bondage but freshness of hearts and the sparkle of cyes turns bondage into freedom and this is what turns talking into steel and hoping into real strength
and then. when the names of paltry judges have all disappeared forgotten, burnt or eaten by the rats your name will still live on. — Son of the Masses born of a powerful womb your name will live forever, death it shall not know for you are life itself ...
to uncle ho chi minh
we bid you welcome, uncle ho although we always meet are you not, uncle ho a tale of the mighty jungle and of fragrant flowers each bud that falls infusing a thousand energies into those which bloom ? and dida't the sun cnce refuse to set in your couniry and duak did not descend: a new road for the new mon? ah. we too have our tale of sun and jungle kissing and hiding the bodies slain mending the torn threads of history with sweat and love together and we who still stand erect we too are just emerging from the mud strength on the right, hope on the lelt clearing a new road for the new a friend will soon poss by with a beating heart that stores memcries and blood that gushes forth the some, the very same ideals we bid you farewell. uncle ho although we never part.
rukmanda
mention all dungeons and you have mentioned me mention all storms the bitterness of exile the longing for the ketjapi the stillness of silent nights the memories of Periangan and the listlessness of waiting I who counted the chain of seconds for tens of years dedicating all I had to the feaat of struggle all the time, each moment my soul breathed the spirit of youth and if this very instant I were asked I would sing "arise ye starvelings from your slumber" now I am no more I am one with the soil of my beloved land but my song I'll finish togerher with the dimming stars with the last song of my heart which beholds the shimmering dawn and the buds continuing life mention all dungeons and you have mentioned me but mention also loyalty enthusiosm and heroism for this too is me.
tidings from the party
this night is a lonely night wrought up with anxiety of birth this night is a sacred night bearing tidings from the party bidding farewell to yesterday hailing the day of tomorrow
I kiss this night which arouses morning in my beart I kias you my party dawn in this day
tidings from the party unfurl the banners of battles againat myaelf confront me with this choice of delight in life abandoning personal passions or fading away before death
tidings from the-party have shown the road which ends defeats.
fallen in battle
nine hours after the battle
there he lies rifle at his side ond his breast pierced with bullets
deadly silence all around broken by his panting breath he raises up his head as it in doubt : there it is the rustling of wings is it the angel of death?
almost weary of walting suddenly from far away he hears the shout of victory carried by the wind to the lonely fighter freedom ! freedom!
his very being shouts for joy this cry is his reward. in the battle for which he staked his life freedom means victory and the free man lives in paradise a new strength surges through him covered as he is with blood he musters all the will in his feeble body pressing his hands on the soil he defended he rises slowly he shouts and clenches his fists freedom! freedom!
this was the last sound he uttered joy in his heart victory in battle be stepped forward and fell.
no one shall return
| the masses march towards the day the moss I represent |
| the sorrows and sufferings of my times lie heavy on my shoulders no one shall return |
| no one shall return though death awaits ahead |
| though death awaits ahead this road leads on to the break of dawn and stirring, peaceful chants |
after panmunjom for Major Yoon Gil
atter ponmunjom everything maimed except ideology the imperialists vented their malice on things and innocent people everywhere destruction everything in ruins corpses of partisans piled up and no two stones standing after panmunjom nothing has been aleeled more than the people
ideology unmaimed people steeled that's a giant creator korea stands gloriously erect on the red soil.
the hero on the hill
from the top of the hill the road stretches forth casting ahead the images of life and death (a bridge in the distance the limit of all feelings) loyal souls are always fond of singing songs of heroism which is higher the sky above the hill or the clouda drißting overhead which will disappear at any momeat? behind the shirt button something lies hidden in the breast how red is young blood then from the valley deep below an appeal echoes and weapons whime and boom the amell of gunpowder belches into the sky because the angels spread the most fragront of scenta with firm strides the hero advances.
death
death, hero of the prosecutor Joughts on the back of the bent judge
death lurks in every corner waiting patiently for the ailing man
(sometimes, bearing a sack he appears on a mattress to kidnap sleeping children)
sometimes, hiding behind a lamp-post he coaxes a passing car as somebody goes by
death jingles of the tip of everything sharp and explodes in the mouth of a qun
gloomy indeed is death for the black king is death.
challenge
it this worid is to be scorched at the points of bayonets must we then sit by
with trembling knees ?
poets!
sing a song:
of freedom!
malia lehi
malia lehi in Kui you rose up together with your people to fight injustice and the rape of Kui
malia lehi though heavy with child you shed your blood drenching. enriching the heroic soil where it glowed for forty-eight years
Kui buildings, coconut trees drums the people rising, holding out
malia lehi no one knows where your tomb stands in Kui but everyone knows your struggle
Kui fell it could not be held but in the year sixty-one. january the anvil thundered everyone returned celebrated Kul has become the tomb of the poisoner.
song
to W. R. Supratmon
when hearts were full of surrender and loneliness
and when a ray of light pierced the gloom of sulfering and ignorance you stirred this scorlet blood, you tore away the veil of secrecy and stagnation
which entombed the greatness of your people and gloirified exploitation.
Out of the shed that housed your hunger, suffering and dissolution comidst the shodows of everything decayed in the glitter
portending deatl and work
your song rose swiftly over valley and mountain, prison and privation coressing each heaut soiled and wrung dry by the sweat of labour
stonding forth. straight and certain, finding a place in consciousness of this eternal truth so long obscured :
Indonesio my native country. Indonesia my fatherland.
and your great energy compelled each heart to sing of and to love the greatmess and wealtà of a fatherland submerged making the blood throb with eraltatiom flooding the
battle-field with joy to settle accounts and bring to lile what you mode clear.
comrade, in the darkness that obscures the last moments before dawn your song steeled us. the generatiom you lelt behind, in ideals
to give birth to that which must be born and cultivate countless buds ot your behest and greatness, on the frontiers of past tears.
of things to come
dawn seads a message on rays just breaking through stealing into the sobs of children, whispering cn trembling lips resounding in the houses. over ricefields and amid roses making hearts speak out that till now could only feel.
there's dew in the dawa of Vietnam, the dew of happiness of a million mothers making the stilf begin to flow, each body building life in joyful work together, building upon the darkness of yesterday there's no more news of misery destroying laughier.
a new sky cleanses, protecting the hopes of the Korean man. beginning to build tomorrow's victory, man's victory over ruins and dawn's message blossoms forth in the heart of every working man carrying hope in brilliant array to those still full of pain.
and from the summit of perfection towards which man firmly climba the road of peace lights up. though covered still with weed confused and ome by one the nights vanish, submerged in early day in the redness of the future, the love for labour and for struggle.
lonely night
the night is lonely but my heart is lonelier still the cold wind yearns for your cabin door and all of you are lulled to sleep
I come albeit the dew has merged as one albei: the cold has penetrated my bones for all of you are my devotion I must come though you know nothing
I set my longing to verse though it has no meaning but I do it for the sake of love and purity of heart
the night is lonely but my hecrt is lonelier still and tomorrow the day will return on the surge of labour the harbour will bustle the workshops will ring again and the radiaat morning will dawn.
my father
my father was not among those who returned my father fell on the field of bottle
my heart's torn aausder with sorrow and griel and the red-and-white flag flutters high in the sky
do you hear?
oh. people cf today
my father is dead, he was slaughtered by bullets oh, why does such auffering still stalk the earth?
indictment
the morning breeze blows cool and soft and the blossoms quiver at its gentle touch it soltly coresses the green foliage but Mother I know! the morning breeze, the flowers and folloge do not bring you beauty
lyrical music sweeps the heart blending with the thrill of a song at dusk and with it, love, passion and joy burst forth but Mother I know! lyrical music and afternoon merriment do mot bring you happiness
the bloze of the lamps dazzles the eye laughier, dancing and gaiety and when evening falls, the laughter rings loud but Mother I know! laughter and lampa at evening fide do not make you happy
you shiver with cold when you're out in the wind you have no eye for foliage and flowers your noked feet get stuck in the mud for you there's just hunger, fatigue and rent capitulation, whipping and flogging is it true, Mother, that nature has beauly for you?
you have to go out in the hostile rain your labour is squeezed for a wage recreation and music mean nothing to you disease, taxation. repayment of debt throttles your lide and tears it to shreds truely Mother is life happiness for you?
Mother! year after year you have waited an endless longing in your heart but your suffering has only ougmented. sweat and toil, blood and tears terrorists. usurers and landlords join one amother to sack out your blood is it true Mother that all creatures on earth have your love ?
Mother! words do not dare to make any promise who knows, today, tomorrow or when but you will find faith and conviction if you join the ranks. your heart will be as hard as steel your feet will be as strong as iron your body withstand a mountain of rocks Mother. do you belive that I leave "the future" only to you?
Mother! this is our dream our thoughts our struggle our song our life "this future" is yours!
the child of a worker
my father's a worker troubled every day he toils and sweats to make a living oh. how he saffers!
my mother sells greens the day's rounds wear her out she sells spinoch and parsnips beans. chillies and corn to help keep the family forgeting herself in her troubles and toil when evening comes my father lies down my parents think of their meagre earnings faint from fotigue oh, how noble they are! today my father suffers and my mother lives in misery yet, oh, my parents wast for the day! get ready for tomorrow ! brace yourself and the world kindle a glowing fire I shall rise and seize for you victory with my hands victorious tomorrow I victorious tomorrow l scarlet red
lumumba's blood is scarlet red lumumba's blood is scarlet red congo!
your hunger is our own your hunger we have in commom hunger for the revolution
lumumba's blood is scarlet red lumumba's blood is scorlet red congo!
your revolution is our own your revolution we have in commom world revolution haiku variations for yoko
flowers on the aerodrome hearts beat in unison two fighters embrace
II
fuji and kenji noture is there to be harmessed man to be won
III
the uji flowa senji's spirit marches on relentlessly
IV
chimneys without smoke the soil is hot the spizit is hot
triumph of mankind waves that roll o'er the roof when will the people be master?
VI
shimonoseki soldiers departed smiling returning ghastly pale
VII
hiroshima atrocities unbridled turped to boundless struggles
VIII
on the right tidal waves on the left the beaches the train is heoding for sendagaya
IX
thak you domo arigato half my heart I leave behind.
bali
in bali too the rice ripens for miles around but in bali too thousands of peasants die of hunger
we come to bali and there are dancers we come to bali and there are temples by the score both are typical of bali
we come to bali and the peosants dies
not because the crop failed to ripen
this too is typical of bali
this too has a meaning life
life should not be measured by luxury though luxury is the aim pursued but by whether poverty repeats its cycle and spreads conspicuously across the earth
in the restaurant a gentleman dines lavishly on the ground a beggar with a tin Is there a deal of life ?
life should not be measured by luxury and we shall not be counted in though part of its blood flows from us
let us put an end to such account we too demand we too work.
the grave on a hillside
at your side the pines have yellowed but not because of age of your side sand conceals your face and mine I'm a wanderer who knows not your countenance I'm a man who knows not your struggle lonesome is the night in your grave deserted on the hillside the feet of a man passing by are sandy and he does not know your name yet before you lay down to rest you gave your heart to this earth of yours and unfurled the beloved banner in your land and I know your struggle now a grave on the hillside I'm a wanderer who knows mot your countenanoe with this paper and pencil I pay my country's tribute to your struggle I see you stand up erect agaín on quard at your mother's side the bulle: so wasted in your rifle like snow in winter time the days pass by and the rain dripas slowly down moistening the sand your heart is ever singing the freedom song of your people the heroic calls of your people like the ever-shining sun
you open your eyes and throw the door to your heart wide open and I see you stand eternal on guard at your mother's side on your shoulder your rifle lies wasted
oh, eternal grave the grave of one that never died the grave of a hero unforgetable with this verse I convey my country's greetings.
yesterday and today for the Arab people-
yesterday a peasant a soldier without rank today he lies prostrate in Beirut the tale still shokes the earth
with trampling steps the colonialists swallow cities everything withers and lies scorched
no time to gaze at sweetheart and parents where will sorrow go where ? the enemy steps in front
yesterday a peasant a common soldier today he lies prostrote in Beirut facing victory in his heart
over the dust of the roads heavy steps resound the Arab patriots enter town their voices echo in the hearts arise ye Arab patriots the oge of victory is right ahead
yesterday a peasant a soldier true today in Beirut he was slain in Beirut he will live again.
anniversary poetry
this day has been ours and therefore love will never die.
wherever we may recline against a stone wall rooled with tiles locked whon the day has passed to night hut breathing the moment morning returna bringing love closer to the light to the struggle that will never surrender.
this day has been ours therefore egen bullets cannot part us.
wherever we turn our eyes the view never changes those who work race against time for the one and only love our place is clear and we see before us unmarred the day when victory will be ours.
the steel mill
that which we know of steel is that it's solid and strong how many types and what its uses how much, too, it will expand the dreams of people who shape tomorrow
that which we know of the times is that it's solid and strong, if in the hands of the people, this is the revolution of mankind for stronger than its happening the process of tempering steel of the new age from metal exploded from history moulded by the aspiring hands of its creators. In it the hardest metals soften cnd become spirited. become a hammer and a mate of the liberated worker.
a cuban maid in peking
Zoila is a maiden from Cuba in Peking. With pride she hands me the banner of her country, celebrating the victory of her land over American aggression. Zoila is a maiden from Cuba. in peking she studies languages far from her native shores. in tribute to her people I gave a flower when she spoke on the first of May: this day my homeland was proclaimed a socialist republic. when I return I'll become a pioneer ! in the evening on the square of tien a men when the whole of peking was celebrating labour day, how beautiful was this Cuban patriot's dream sprung from a thousand sparks of fireworks setting the entire sky in colour.
eating the bread of the commune
to Paul Eluard A visit to a commune la an erstwhile poverty. stricken part of Peking.
there are those in want of bread there are those in want of rice but of all wants the most insulting is the lack of social lide
there are those in want of lodging there are those in want of clothes but of all wants the most paralysing is, the lack of solidarily
there are those in want of strength there are those in want of skill but of all wants the most humiliating is when hopes come to end social life, solidarity and hopes are rice. bread and bloom and fruit filling the life of the worker when free
from falsehoods. oppression and froud colonialism, feudalism and banditry
social life, solidarity and hope I encountered and felt in this commune. hence: I want to drink from the warmth of your hopes I want to press your hands so busily at work. I want to eat this bread the bread of the commune, as a token of social lide. solidarity and humon hopes regained. forover together in love, in ideals and the reality of the socialist world.
women
no longes ore we quilded posies engaging when compliant exquisite when yielding enchanting when submissive. to hell tis our duty to go to heaven permitted to follow.
and no longer are we blossoms cast aside downtrodden selling our sweat for next to mothing workers ot half the price no security no equality only duty
we have cried out from behind the walls of segregation from the clutches of the spiteful bed from the nighily business in the gutters from the revenge of unwilling wedlock "we are human beings !"
freedom
freedom has changed the face of the world it rales the mind, the heart and the person it dispels the mist hanging over the mountains, the volleys the shores. the fields. the factories and the cities and the hedris of us. women.
now we ore no longer
just giving birth to worker soldiers.
we too are worker soldiers.
no longer just wives of people's heroes.
we too are people's heroes
and when the fortresses of obsolete time are smashed and workers' power stands proudly in our land we shall no longer only tend the graves read the prayers and weep for the dead we shall be part of the foremost ranks.
sampit
three centres of life has Sampit city foctory — harbour — river all three are bustling with lide the scratching of saws on timber the hissing of the rubber mill the boom of trucks, motors and caris the roaring of ships' engines
but one rimes above all the rest resounding throughout the city the voice of the workers who release from their heavy hearis the bitterness of life
the Mentaya river cares for its cily water in turbulent whisling poola wanting to see lile as it's really lived a never-drying source
that is the Mentaya. Mentaya the girl that has not yet been wooed.
the fishermen of katingan
when the waters ore low in the river and its tributory which twiats round the island like rattan round α tree when the flood waters have receded from the edge of the village the fishermen search for a ploce of solitude.
here among the celd, the mosquitos, the bears and the forest birds I feel the great significance of man — much tortured in war and the fierceness of life — when the sun pushed away by the wind goes down and the evening opproaches from the east I feel very close to my father.
when the moon sinks to the feet of the dawn I awaken remembering the tender tale how my father's blanket covered my body. — oh, he's a rough yet tender man he's the home of our family a simple fisherman a man who always thinks of others.
among the rustle of the leaves and the river water I call out to him :
father !
and I see his feelings under the hozy moon from the smile he throws at me.
— I want to be like fother simple ond kind of heart a man loved by women by my wile and child
— no, my son shall be a general a poor man's life is not a pleasure there's too much want in the village.
today. nany generals are as feeble as cork I want to be like you, father a worser with an ardent heart and as hard as ironwood.
here among the sprawling fish our laughter makes the forest tremble.
birds and water flies leave their nest and the fishermen go homeward.
when there are many buyers in the village and people live far from town the fish will sell. fother!
— your mother, brothers and your siatera and we too will alwaya need this fish therefore after having shared them salt and store the rest.
— father are you not disappointed ?
a fleeting smile greets my glance and my words I know the taste: bitter!
— son, fontasy is not the answer to privation.
— ch. I want to be like father, like father an ardent, aimple worker kind of heart.
like the river waters fleeted our smiles.
radiant baku
boku, the oil town of the strong winds barren, yet gorgeous green gardens stretch forth as far as the eye can see surrounded by ronges of hills icoted by shores that are tempered by waves a foreat of towering glittering drills the oil roinbow rippling on the water.
in the darkness of yesterday a ray burst forth brilliant red the oil busied twenty-six valiant officers glowing, glowing red. red, red the victory of today and tomorrow.
baku bethes radiant and fresh dancing on coptivating smiles mimble movements call for motion stirring songs of oriental tone alternating dainty dances sweeping down, rising to the sky holding tight the sacred white dove hearis glow red like pomegrenates illuming the endless universe.
the struggle of erevan
erevan the heart of armenia has barren mountains rising high. the snowy cap of mount ararat white as foum melts and flows to the sovietturkish border. for centuries lake sewan abounded in trout and silantly she saw oppression. lovely armenia lay stiff and cold her bones covered with dried-up skin crawling up in resistance the struggle of erevam. of ajastan.
on november twenty-ninth in the twenties. erevam's struggle found its throne, red silk fluttered changing humiliation into shining faces. the barren hills bear iron ore. densely rise the electric poles and ararat's wines refresh tho thirsty. leke sewan bends its clear water down for coal. the glittering gold sends beams electric lights the child of times the fruit of love of erevan's struggle.
erevan las become young again the twilter of the swallows resound accompanied by native tones. come. clap your hands and dance and sing erevan's struggle glows fiery red triumphint now and tomorrow. human hands are harnishing nature gone lorever lamentations. laughter was born gone forver privations, nirwana was bora erevan's struggle rejoices in happiness.
young man
when the mountain wind blows in the late afternoon. Idjoh part of my brecat snaps on the village fence a pair of grey-blue ricebizds sing flying in circles afraid of the drizzling rain how desolate is my yearning heart
when the mountain wind blows in the late afternoon, Idjah a lamp of my heart is tied to the village fence the rice field stretches far,. proliderating rice my eyes are glued to your tomb, my love how pulverised is my rovoged heart.
the hungry
if we eat only once a day its not because we're fasting but because we haven't anything
the city wealthy pile up riches we look on hungry and sweating oh. how hot is this life
our strength almost exhausted but still we have no rice and our pockets remain emply
we hungry people carry a conviction pounding in our breasts that a new world will dawn
we hungry people cary a conviction that nothing can prevent the sum from reaching our hearts.
partnership
to Mario d'Andrade
I too am called upon — Angola urges all our sympathy. I com't sit down with folded hands
when people are deprived of freedom. what them is left, oh people of today ? I dare not look at the faces of those still young.
Angola. because your ranks are not alone I raise this partnerahip: solidarity for you!
the ballad of upit
Upit ! omong the tea shrubs cn the slope of the hill your fingers dance from twig to twig the leaves are gently swaying kissed by the mountain breeze.
eight hours you have sweated on the verdant shody hills why is it that your heart fails to find repose?
Upit ! when the crimson setting sum bathes the bushes in a reddish glow your heart is full of woe.
and when the ketjopi strings play the song of labour it resounds in every heart the struggle of women will mever cease till victory is won.
revolution
I entice you into the woods, my love and you follow me like a shadow the shore vanishes, the sea remaina and corpses pile up in the disputed city
red ribbon and sun
love bleeds on until death.
the death of a peasant to Dorman L. Tambunan
there, before the office of my lord the regent lies a peasant because of land because of land.
there, in the office of the peasant union the hungry fume because of blood.
land and blood turn the wheels of history from here the flame springs from here peace everlasting.
II
he fell prostrate a bullet in his head. his mind went back in torture yel torture was only for his body. he remembered the days of his youth his son turned soldier
- ah, who will give them food? —
my wife weeds the ricefield. let the rice rage at the stalk pity them pity them they are our comrades
give me water. I am thirsty my body weak with hunger, I came to them then back to you. and as the dry land lay white on the skin we had food together.
and then, all went gloomy, gloomy extinguished and black as night.
III
they say that those in power who murder the people should quit.
IV
the pregnant paddy withstands the wind. the sound of the flute in the dismal hut impregnates lide.
the pregnant paddy dances on the wind.
just see, the women boldly going maked their hoea and paddy smashed to smithereens the prison is their home and even the baby at their breast knows torture.
they say that those in power who rob the people should quit before being forced to do so.
if the tractor comes to destroy cur dwellings we'll bang at every door.
democracy
generals, it's we that adorned your chest with medals wrested from landlords' and usurers' torturous hands we now demand of your medals: where's our land ? generals, it's we that adorned your chest with medals out of the sweat of a seven-hour that became a ten-hour work-day, we now demand ol yours medals : where's our pay? generals, one after amother we fell arms in hond against the Dutch we now demiand of your medals: where's our Irion ? generals, certainly it's not you who will give land. wages cmd Iriom what we want is : let us build one mighty front and above all, give us freedom to speak.
explanatory notes
AIDIT, Dipa Nusantara.
From the Melayu nationality which inhabits the whole eastern coast of Sumatero. Born on July 30, 1923 in Sumatera. Chairman of the Communist Pariy of Indonesio. Vice-Chairman of the Provisional People's Consultative Assembly of the Republic of Indonesia and since Morch 1962, Minister in the Sukarno Cabinet. Co-lounder of the League of People's (LEKRA).
The poem "The only rood", written on January 27, 1955, describes how Communist leaders, living under difficult conditions af that time — in leaking huts standing along muddy paths and without electric light — dilligently and painstakingly studied the works of Marx. Engels, Leinin, Stalin. Mao Tse Tung. Maurice Thorez, Palmiro Togliati, and "many more thoughts of the best sons of the world". This was an importent beginning in the building up of the CPI as a genuine Marxist-Leninist and mass Party.
The poem "Coming of Age" was written on the accdsion of the 35th anniversary of the Communis: Party of Indonesia on May 23. 1955.
"Gronite Wall" was written in September 1957 when counterrevolutionary 'councils' threatening to overthrow the government. forced the then Djuanda government to sit down together with represenictives of the 'councils' at the conference table. In February 1958. however. the 'councils' in West Sumatera and North Sulawesi stoged the notorius "PRRI-Permesta" counter-revolutionary rebellion. The "ouldaied story of forty-eight" In "Granite Wall" relers to the 1948 Madiun Affair when thousands of progressive people were murdered or thrown inio prison on the orders of the then Vice- President of the Republic, Hatta. Eleven top leaders of the CPI, mongst them the first Communist Prime Minister of Indonesia, Amir Sjorifuddin. were executed without trioi at Ngolion where they lie buried. Magelang is a towa near Ngalian. and Wonogiri and Bojolali, also in Central Java, are districts where in the early days of the Revolution a democratic land reform was carried through. Hadji Bakri (a hadji is person who has made the pilgrimage to Mecco) was a well-known Communist leader.
AIDIT, Sobron
Younger brother of D. N. Aidit, born in 1934 on the tin island of Belitung. Began to write poetry when still at elementary school. His first collection of poema "Home from the Fronf" wos published in 1959. Is also writer of ahort stories, one of which, "Story". oblained top literary reward of the "Kisah" literary mogaxine. Another story, "Basimah" was awarded the annual prize by the daily "Hazian Rakjor" for the best short story of 1961.
The numbers seventeen, eight, and forty-five in the poem "Society of my Class" refer to August 17, 1945, the days on which the independent Republic of Indonesia was proclaimed. Udin is a common name for men in West Java. Tjiandjur and Periangon are mountainous districis in West Java where fierce battles took place between Indonesion forces and Dutch colonial troops during the Indonesian war of liberation.
ANANTAGUNA, Sabarsantoso
Anantaguna is Javanese. He was born in 1932 in Jokjakarta, Central Java. Represented Indonesian students at the IUS Secreiariat in 1958 and is at present secretariat member of the League for People's Culture.
At the beginning of 1962, he published a volume of 35 poems about the struggle of the Indonesian peasants entitled "With Father- Jand But Withour Land" and wrote a mumber of poems devoted to the heroism of the peoples of Asia and Africa in the struggle to rid their continents of colomialism. His "/amila~ was written when reports shocked the world about the, atrocities perpetrated by the French occupation forces against the Algerion girl independence fighter, Jamila Bourheid.
"To People's Bandung" was written to welcome the Fourth Session of the Afro-Asian People's Solidarity Council in Bandung in April 1961.
"The Downtrodden Shoulder Freedom" was written in early 1962.
From West Sumatera. of the Minangkabau nationality, He was born in Padang Pandjang on August 30, 1927. Played an important role in developing Indonesian literature after the Revolution through his editorship of various literary and cultural magazines. Publisbed together with Chairil Anwar and Asrul Sani a collection of poems "Tigo Menguak Takdir". The title is a pun which cam mean elther "Three Low of Fate", or "Three Brush Away Takdir". With the latier title, this collection of poems is a polemic against the "mestor" of the Pudjangga Baru writers, Takdir Alishahbana.
His pooms "The anchor line is broken" and "Elegy" were written during the early years of independence.
His "Peking" is the outcome of a visit to China after he had attended the Buredu Meeting of Afro-Asian Writers in Tokyo in 1961. He was a member of the Indonesion writers delegation to the First ond Second Conferences of Afro-Asiam Writers held in Tashkent and Coiro in 1959 and 1962 respectively.
Todoy Rivoi Apin is a member of the LEKRA secretariat and editor of the organisation's caltural magazine "Zaman Baru" (New Eral.
ARSIAD. M. S.
Lives in South Sulawesi. "Native Village" deals, with one of the most burning problems faced by the people of his region. the cowardly attacks on villages by the counter-revolutionary Darul Ialam gangs. The Darul Islam (Ialamic State) is am anti-populor movement which. by utilising the religious sentiments of the people and by terrorising the peasants, aims at setting-up a theocratie Moslem State. Especially during the late fifties, the Darul Ialam terrorists were active in North Sumatera, Wes: Java and South Sulrwesi. The now oullawed Masjumi party was the backbone of this movement. In 1958 the Darul Islam gangs joined hands with the counter-revoluticndries in West Sumatera and North Sulawesi. Both anti-republican movements have now in the main been smashed.
M.S. Ashar was borm in 1921 in Kotarodjo, the extreme northern tip of Sumatera, and is of the Melayu nationality. Began to publish poetsy during the Japanese occupation. One of his pcems "Awaiting Dawn" was banned by the Japanese censorship. Prominent member of the "Gemeration of 1945".
Visited the German Democratic Republic. the Soviet Union and China in 1951 and paid a second visit to the Soviet Union in 1961 os leader of a LEKRA delegation. In 1959 he was elected member of the Lecra secretariat.
His poem "Freedom ond Prison~ was written in 1955 during the trial of D. N. Aidit tried on a charge by Hatta of having 'slandered' his nome in connection with the Madium Affair (see Explanatory Notes on D. N. Aidit). During the trial the accused turned accuser proving Hatta to be responsible for the massacre of Madiun in 1943.
"To Uncle Ho Chi Minh" was written on the occasion of the visit of the President of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh, to Indonesio in 1960.
BANDAHARO, Harahap
Born in May 1917 in Tapanuli, Sumatera. From the Botak notionality which inhabit, the region round Lake Toba. Established himself as an outstanding poet with his collection of poems "Sorinah and I" which was published just bedore the Second World Wor.
Was alternately editor of the daily "Rakjat". the weeklies "Kerakjatan" and "Djalan Baru" and the daily "Pendorong", all in Medan.
In 1956 he publiahèd his collection of poems "From the Region of Love and Hunger". One of his most popular poems. printed in this present volume. "No One Shali Return" wos set to music by the young composer Subronto K. Atmodjo.
"Fallen In Battle~ tells the story of Jahja Kalek, member of a people's fighting unit, who was killed in battle during the first days of the Revolution in North Sumatera.
"After Panmunjon" was wrilten in tribute to the Korean people when the writer visited the Democratic People's Republic of Korea in 1959.
Also known under his pen-name Klara Akustia. Was born in 1924 in West Jova. Wos very octive in the trade union movement as Head of the Informotion Department of the Central Bureau of the All Indonesion Trode Union Federation (SOBSI). One of the co-founders ol LEKRA whose General Secretary he was till 1958. Published a collection of poems "Rangsang Derik" — Stirring of the Moments — and won fome through his poema dealing with the workers" struggle.
"Rukmando" norrates the struggle of one of the popular leaders of the 1926 onti-colonial uprising. Rukmanda. This poem, too, was set to music by Subronto K. Atmodjo. The ketjapi referred to ir this poem is on extremely popular cither-like instrument typical foi West Java.
The poem "Tidings from the Party" was written immediately alter some hand grenodes hod been thrown at the office of the Communist Party where the Central Committee was in session in July 1957.
DJJWAPRADJA. Dodong
Djiwopradja wos born in West Java in September 1928 and ia of Sunda nalionality. Began to publish poetry ot the oge of twenty. Attended the First Congress of Afro-Asian Writers in Tashkent and was a member of the Indonesian writers delegotion to the 1961 Tokyo meeting of the Burecru of Afro-Asian writers.
Djiwopradja is a present Information Oflicer of the Indonesian Air Force.
His poem "Challenge" which appeared in 1960 is a forceful prolest of the writer against the arbritary use of martial low which has been in force in Indonesia since the outbreak of the counterrevolution in 1958.
FERDY. Somuel
Promising young poet from the island of Timor in East Indonesia where he was born in 1936. By profession a teacher at a junior high school and began his career as a writer with the publication of some poems in the local news-sheet in Kupang, the main city of the Indonesian part of the island of Timor.
Malia Lehi was one of the leaders of the anti-leudal and anti- Dutch revolt which broke out in 1913 against the ruler of the Kul principality on Alor islond, a small ialand off Timor. The princo of Kui, umable to cope with the revolt, callèd in the casistance of Dutch colonial troops statiomed at Kupang. The revolt was crushed, the women Malia Lehi was killed and all possessions of tho inhabitants of three villages, their cocount gardens. their dwellings and even their revered traditional drums. were confiscated by the Dutch and made the property of the prince of Kui.
In January 1961, the judge of the Kupong State Court, after long legal procedures started on the insistence of the local Communist Party branch against the preseni ruler of Kui. annulled the confiscation carried out by the Dutch. Three days prior to the announcement of the Court decision, the ruler of Kui commited suicide by taking poison.
RADI, S.
Young poet from the Daya nationality inhabiting the contre of Kalimantan. The red-and-while flag referred to in his poom "My Father" is the Indonesiam national flag.
HADI SOSRODANUKUSUMO
From the Madura nationality inhabiting the island of Madura and some parts of East Java. Published his first collection of poema "Growth and Decay" in 1955. a collection of short stories "At the Croas Roads" together with M. A. Adinda ond a selection of prose and poetry together with Sitepu in 1956. Two of his poems contained in that selection which is entitled "Rice and Josmin" (1956), are reproduced in the present volume.
Visited the Soviet Union and China in 1951 after hoving ottended the 1951 Berlin Festival of Youth and Students.
At present prominent LEKRA leader in Ecst Jova.
W. R. Suprotman to whom the poem "Song" is dedicated, is the creator of Indonesia's National Anthem. The anthem was composed in 1928 and begins with the lines "Indonesia my native country, Indonesia my fatherland".
KERTAPATI, Rukiah
Was born in Purwakaria. West Java on April 25, 1927. She won fame with her collection of short stories and poems "Tondus"
Barren — which was owarded the National Prize for Literature in 1952. Is also the cuthor of the novelettes "Fall and Heart" and "Soldier's Wife". Apart from her short stories and poems she ia also well-known ca a writer of children's books. At present she is editor of the children's magoxine "Kutilang" and member of the editorial board of the progresive woman's magazine "Api Kartini".
In 1961 she cttended the Congress of German Writers in the Germon Democratic Republic os a member of the LEKRA delegation together with Sugiarti Siswadi.
"Indictment" was written to mark International Women's Day, Morch 8, 1961, whereas her poem "Child of a Worker" is taken from a collection of poems for children.
NJOTO
Was born in Blitar. East Java in 1925. Njoto is Second Deputy Choirmom of the Communiat Party of Indonesia and Editor-in-Chief of the daily "Harion Rakjat". Co-dounder of the LEKRA.
Well-known as essoyist, journalist and translator of foreign lizera ture. His poem "Scorlet Red", set to music by the Indonesian composer, Amir Posoribu, was wrtten in tribute to Patrice Lumumba.
The "Haiku Variations" was written after a visit to Japan in August 1961. In the first variation Njoto tells of his encouater with Kenji Myamoto, General Secretary of the Communist Party of Japan : in subsequent variations. of his visit to the grave of Senji Hayamoto near the Uji river, who was murdered by fascist thugs in the 1930's. of the layed-olf lactories of Fukuoka. of the underwater tunnel connecting Kyushu and Honshu islands, of Shimonoseki, the military bose from which Japanese soldiers departed to invade S. E. Asia during the Pacilic War. Sendogaya in Variation VIII refers to the street where the office of the Communist Party of Jopan is located, and the "domo arigato" in the last variation is the Japanese for "thank you".
The "Haiku Variations" are dedicated to Mrs Yoko Kitazawa, Japanese representative at the Secretariat of the Organisation of Afro-Asian People's Solidarity in Cairo.
OKA, Putu
Oka is a natiye of the ialand of Bali, of present studying of the Gadjah Moda University in Jokjakarta. This Balinese poet in his poem "Bali" shows the other side of his island which is alternately referred to by wealtihy foreign tourists aa "laland of the Gods" or the "Paradise of the South Seas".
Like so many cultural workers in Bali. Putu Oka, too. is a member of the LEKRA.
RISAKOTTA. Ferdinand, Lodewijk
From the ialand of Ambon, one of the fomous spice islands of the Moluccas in East Indonesia. Apart from his poema, Risakotta has won fame as a producer of radio plays and as reciter of poetry. Studied Chinese literature at the University of Indonesia and is α prominent studenis' leader. Has translated many foreign poems.
His "Yesterday and Today" is taken from a series of poems dedicated to the struggle of the Arab people. His "Grave on a Hillside" was written while on a visit to the Democrotic People's Republic of Korea.
The poem "Anniversary Poetry" was written on the occasion of the fortieth anniveraury of the foundation of the Communis: Porly of Indonesia.
SITUMORANG. Sitor
Was born on October 2. 1924 in Harianboho in the Batak region of North Sumatera. He became known as an essayist ond poet during the early days of the Revolution. Worked for a time as official at the Indonesian Embassy in Paris. Is ope of the founders of the mationallst League for National Culture of which he is eurrently General Secretory. Published several collections of poetry the latest of which is "New Era" printed by the LEKRA in 1962.
Visited with Jubaar Ajub. LEKRA General Secretary. and Rivai Apin the Burecru meeting of Afro-Asian Writers in Tokyo and was Chairman of the Indonesian writers delegation to the Second Congress of Afro-Asian Writers in Cairo.
Situmorang is represented in this volume with three poems he wrote during a visit to China after having attended the Tokyo Bureaiu Meeting.
SULANG, Kusni
Become known through the poems he reqularly contributes to the cultural page of the "Bintang Timur" daily. He hails from
Central Kalimantan. He is a member of the group of young writers in their early twenties who rally round the "Young Indonesia" group which published their work in the literary columns of the "Bintang Timur". "Sampit" sings the praise of his home town Sompit, and his second poem in this collection portrays the life of the fishermen of the Central Kalimanton Kotingon river.
SUGIARTI SISWADI
She was born in Central Java and she establisbed herself as a talented poet and shortstory writer in 1950. She became especially well-known through her much-rood short-story "Paradise on Earth", the story of an old grandmother.
Visited Rumania in 1955 and the German Democratic Republic. the Soviet Union and China in 1961 together with Rukiah Kertapoti as head of the LEKRA delegation.
She is a leader of the Djakaria Branch of the LEKRA is active in the progressive women's organisation Gerwani and is co-edito of the journal for women "Api Kartini".
SUDISMAN
Prominent working class leader from Surabaya where he was born in 1920. He took octive part in the battles against the invading British troops immedicely after the Japanese surrender in Surabaya. Today Sudisman is a member of the Political Bureau of the Communist Party of Indonesia.
"Struggle of Erevan" dan "Radiant Baku", are taken from a series of poems Sudisman wrote after an extensive visit to East European and Asian countries in 1957. His poems about Korea were published together with those of Risakotta and Rumambi in a collection entitled "Hill 1,211".
SUPRI/ADI, Piek Ardianto
Poel from the East Java town of Madiun. Secondary school teacher. Regular contributor to various literary magazines, amongst othersthe LEKRA magazine "Zamon Baru".
The name Idjah rederred to in his poem "Young Man" à a common. nome for girls in Indonesia.
Was born in 1937 in Padang, West Sumotera. Of Chinese extraotion. Benni Tjung is one of the leaders of the group of "Young Indonesia" writers and is permanent collaborator of the LEKRA magazine "Zamon Baru". Wrote a number of essays on the work of young Indonesian writers.
His poem "Partnership~ is dedicated to the youthful leader of the Angolan fighters for independence. Mario d'Andrade whom the writer met at the Council Meeting of Afro-Asion Solidarity in Bandung. April 1961
Upit, the title of his second poem in this volume. is a common name for women in West Java. Upit is a tea-picker at one of tho many tea plantations in the mountains of West Java.
WISPI, Agom
Is of the Atjeh nationality and was born on December 31, 1930 in Pongkalamsusu. He is the author of a number of plays of which "Railway Compartment" ia generally considered his best. Agom Wispi spent a year in the German Democratic Republic in 1958 and wrote a number of poems about that country, loter published in α collection called "Friend".
His poem "Death of a Peasant" deals with the land dispute in the North Sumateran village of Tandjung Morawa. In 1955 the then Minister of the Interior Mohammed Rum, of the now outlawed Mosjumi party, ordered the peasants to leave their lands which, he said. the peasonts had tllegally occupied. The peasants refused to do so and the Minister sent the notorius "death tractora" to level the peasants' dwellings with the ground. The pecaants defending their houses and land put up resistonce and victima fell. The women played an especially imporiant role in this struggle. Some of them threw them selves naked before the tractors in a desperate attempt to halt the machines in their destructive work.
Darman Tambunan, to whom the poem is dedicated, was a leader of the BTI peasant organisation which championed the couse of the -evicted pecsants.
The poem "Democracy~ is by far Wispi's most popular poem and is olten recited at popular mamilestations. It was written in 1959 in protest against frequent violations of democratic rights.
contents
A Few Words of Introduction
Aidit D.N. Coming of Age — The Only Road — Granite Wall
Aidit, Sobron — Sad Memories of a Tjiandjur Peasant - Lile — The Society of my Class
Apin, Rivai — The Anchor Chain is Broken - Elegy Peking
Anantaguna, Sabarsantoso — The Dowatrodden Shoulder Freedom - Jamila — To People's Bandung
Arsjad M.A. — Native Village
Ashar M.S. —Freedom and Prison -To Uncle Ho Chi Minh
Dharta A.S. — Rukmanda - Tidings from the Party
Bandaharo Harahap — Fallen in Battle —No One Shall Return — After Panmunjom
Dodong Djiwapradja — The Hero on the Hill —Death —Challenge Ferdy, S. — Malia Lehi Hadi, Sosrodanukusumo Song Of Things to Come Hadi S. — Lonely Night —My Father Kertapati, Rukiah — Indictment — The Child of a Worker Njoto — Searlet Red — Haiku Variationa Oka, Putu 一Bali — Life Risakotta F. L. — The Grave on a Hillside — Yesterday and Today — Anniversary Poetry
Sitor Situmorang — The Steel Mill — A Caban Maid in Peking — Eating the Bread of the Commune Sugiarti Siswadi — Women — Freedom Sulang, Kusni — Sampit — The Fisherman of Kotingam Sudisman — Radiant Baku — The Struggle of Erevan Suprijadi, Piek Ardijanto — Young Man — The Hungry Tjung, Benni — Partnerahip — The Ballad of Upit Wispi, Agam — Revolution -The Death of a Peasant — Democracy Explanatory Notes