—

I

THE FACTS BEFORE MY EYES

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

I gaze upon the face of the moon
within my eyes,
and my heart bleeds, pouring out an anger suspended in the air.

because the smoke and the weather have been plundered by certain businessmen
who trample upon the heads of people beneath the burning forests.

O, how ravenous the weather in the dense, mist-laden air!

To whom should I report
these records that seem to side with the law of those at the bottom?

From the morning news on my television,
the current of electricity sets the people’s conscience ablaze,
while ears upon deaf ears merely blankly staring from both sides of my country.

Are we still silent
when torrents of brown mud and stolen timber
arrive in a rain of fury
across Aceh, North Sumatra, and Padang?

And where, then, are the hands of those who set the forests alight,
choking the law and politics of my country?

–

Palembang, September 13th, 2026

—

II

SMOKE HAZE
Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

O, the smoke haze has arrived in my chest,
thick, casting its grey shadow.

You burn branches of wood
before my eyes,
then lie there, helpless.

Ah, how suffocating the view
beneath the air scorched black by fire.

What smoke is this
that spills promises from your mouth,
fouler than a thousand lies?

Only a salsa dance is entered into the record
while fire becomes terror
across thousands of hectares of forest in Kalimantan and Sumatra.

Like a red devil dancing
from one tree
to the trunks of others,
the flames burn here, there, everywhere.

And so,
the smoke writhes,
carrying victory for businessmen
whose armpits run wet with palm oil.

Then,
the ashen haze
scatters the death of conscience
among the hands of those in power
who exchange glances upon the stage of vested interests.

O, my forest,
like a prison wall
because the trunks and trees,
crisscrossing plantations at their source,
must be burned!

Then,
burn it!
Burn it all!!

So that its smoke may suffocate the people
living beside a poverty
that never had the chance
to taste the wealth of their own country.

O, certain businessmen and rulers,
where has your conscience gone?

From the remnants of the night’s records,
the fire has already spread
into the tears of Motherland.

Its flames
are almost upon the death of conscience,
bribed by billions of greed.

O, how suffocating
this conspiracy that fattens certain pockets,
leaving behind scratches of ruin
across the fate of the people of Borneo and Sumatra.

–

Palembang, September 6th, 2026

—

III

WATER UPON THE RAIN OF FIRE

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

O, rain,
pour down Your water,
for the earth and the trunks of trees
in my forest
are burning beneath the greed
of devils who rule and trade.

And so, this is the voice
that releases a thousand tones
from a thousand trees,
as smoke begins to run rampant
inside our chests.

Ah,
how breathless I become
when fire thrusts itself
through the armpit-like crevices
of trees that have had no time
to shed a single tear.

For the forest of fire
has scorched the thoughts
and futures of timber, branches,
customs, and traditions
in my country.

And so
the veil of fire burns the smoke
after the greed in its heart
has felled my forest.

O, my forest,
whose foul hands are these
that blacken their hearts
within the lines of this poem of supplication?

–

Palembang, August 31st, 2026

—

IV

WILL I STILL BE ALIVE TOMORROW?

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

The kerosene almost screams
as flickering lamps begin to blink
inside the greyish, mist-filled air.

O, will I still be alive tomorrow?

The map of life is vast upon the page;
no oil lamp will simply go dark
while fire blazes
behind the death of the forests of Borneo and Sumatra.

And so,
the question begins to speak
of the status of those with capital,
snickering,
skilled at exchanging glances with rulers
who plangak-plongok
with strategies of their own.

For
life, death, and the record of age
always breathe
through the flickering entries
of the ledger of mortality.

When life and death become the ground
beneath our final days,
has the record of our achievements
fulfilled its prostration before Him?

–

Palembang, June 17th, 2026

—

V

SHE, THAT WOMAN

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

Again and again I
turn away from a thousand women’s faces
that awaken words
in the alphabet of momentary desire.

And so,
this lust is like a comrade-in-arms,
slowly turning
in accordance with the betrayal
of my heart’s purity.

Like fragments of dust
thickening the grey air,
I too become a blur
inside the love poems of the past,
laden with certain political interests.

O, after His word
had guarded the purity of my heart
before I finally fell
upon the last earth,
the game of plangak-plongok
instead sets fire to hundreds of thousands of hectares
of my forestland
rich in wealth,
while its people become rubbish,
discarded things.

And so,
time after time,
all words have grown limp
after weaving sentences
into the sequence of morning light
without a veil of smoke.

Must I remain silent
among the spaces of my journey,
my feet kneeling
upon the floor of Your house,
my God?

–

Palembang, June 12th, 2026

—

VI

THE JAVANESE KINGS

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

Art and scenario,
painted across the face of my country,
will corner the stories
of power upon this land.

For
even when those lines melt
across the canvas,
the many colours of the story
will forbid brilliant ideas
from appearing alone
when exhibited as the principal actor.

And yet,
art is a feeling,
entangled from one painting
into another,
packaging a fragment
of a Javanese king.

Look closely:
each scene throughout the scenario
playing upon the canvas
gives form to the faces
of Javanese kings thirsty for power
upon the stage of a cup of coffee.

Then,
as the scene moves softly, sinuously,
the face of the Javanese king
smiles
while crushing the feelings
of its director,
who wallows in oil paint.

“Do not appear upon the stage
of the political game!”
the regulation screams.

Quietly,
the painting shrinks
and hides behind disappointment
that tramples upon the privacy
of the performance.

Must the director tear apart
the painted scenario
that cries out
in the name of the people’s voice?

–

Palembang, December 23th, 2024

—

VII

A HALF-SHADOW PAINTING

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

A painted face
you shape
upon a story
within countless records.

The pattern of the image
and the essence of the painting,
laughing above a heap of stories,
slap half my face.

A sham of a country
displaying fragments of islands
between seas and straits
has already lost its tears
when the depths of the ocean
are reduced to the interests
of oligarchs.

Ah,
the wealth of islands, forests,
and recorded mines
is nothing more than a children’s bedtime tale.

Within the story of a wealthy country
with only half a face,
the fate of its people
blurs into dense weather
for the sake of rotten interests,
reek­ing of carrion
above piles of scrap.

O, an old face
holding its aspirations
inside an abstract painting
possesses only counterfeit wealth
for the greed of oligarchs.

For
Article 33 of the 1945 Constitution
is merely a dark bedtime story
then darkness,
and deeper darkness.

In my dream,
words are only stories of war—
an attempt to overturn the corrupt
until the upheaval reaches
the fields of thought.

Then,
the long dream comes to an end.

The story of the corrupt
bares its fangs
as a half-shadow painting.

–

Palembang, May 29th, 2026

—

VIII

NOTHING MORE THAN A STORY

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

O, Mashitoh,
your age hangs limp,
felled and seized by death.

Child, husband, another lover
all merely fragments of a story
within a brief tale told
through birth, life, and death.

Remember,
a fragment of life
wrapped in the passage of wealth
is only a scenario
opening a story
upon the stage of a single act.

And so,
age is merely a number,
walking from one journey
into another;
it too controls a story
as foul as carrion.

Then,
where are the arrogance
and pride that were once your companions,
before you embrace death
and pass from being
into no longer being?

–

Palembang, June 2nd, 2026

—

IX

THE HONORARY TEACHER

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

You bow your head
after that struggle
has grown limp
within a long radius
filled with the corrupt.

Like a duck farmer,
your muddy steps along the journey
around the burning forest
cut into the wound of sincerity
of wages,
of teaching,
of distances travelled
farther and farther!

Fifteen years of your service
collapse beneath the price
of an education system in tatters,
at the narrow boundary
of the value of your honorarium.

Then,
upon this teacher’s desk
your thoughts spill into mathematical numbers
and histories far removed
from the attention of your country.

Those fifteen years of service
crawl from year to year
until even the MBG – Free Nutrious Meal Programme
buries you beneath the earth
of the cemetery.

And,
you too decay into time.
For, from the beginning before the end,
the distance of your career
has stumbled into the mud of a journey
that has yet to open the tap
of teaching
across distances
farther and farther!

O, when will the numbers
in your wallet
take flight upon the runway
of interests
that stagger through each ordinary day?

–

Palembang, June 2nd, 2026

—

X

THE TWO-ACT LYSISTRATA

Poem by Anto Narasoma

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

ACT I

For hundreds of years
your face
you have exposed
to the manuscript of a story,
after thousands of lines
have strengthened your anger
upon that stage of play.

The musical illustration
has been singing Lysistrata’s role
all this while,
crying out the broken souls
inside your face,
so full of character.

And so,
the long war
upon desire
that tramples human dignity
chuckles
inside every woman’s body.

Lysistrata, too,
is enveloped by a love
that draws a boundary through the middle,
so that husband and wife
may write a story
that fractures the fates
of the people of Athens and Sparta;
it has shaken the floor of the spectacle.

“Keep your heart
and wash it clean.
For woman
and the dignity of life
are love,”
declares the performer.

ACT II

War is fire,
blazing,
spilling vengeance
across a vast space
devoid of humanity.

When Lysistrata whispers
into thousands of ears,
woman is a script of love
humiliated into words
with an unfinished manuscript.

Oh,
to whom does that war of love
release its bluish lust
within the play
of so many roles?

Lysistrata,
from one performance to the next,
the character walks straight on,
telling the game
inside the auditorium theatre
after you have finished
reciting the pages of the script.

Then,
the performance scatters
into every corner of the music,
accompanying women
who do not sell their purpose
after each political scene
coloured by the black and white
of the corruptors’ drama.

“We cannot open the day
after word by word
has moved through the story.
Does our life
have a price to be explored,
we women?!”
The chorus speaks,
like a symphonic note
inside the scenario.

Limp, Lysistrata,
for the performance still waits,
hoping that the battle
will not corner
the fidelity of love.

But
the fire of battle
continues to burn
through forests
and mines of vested interests,
flaring in the cries
of street children
after they have been pierced
by the long hunger.

–

Palembang, September 12th, 2026

—–

About the Poet – Anto Narasoma

Anto Narasoma, a respected national poet and senior journalist, stands as a guiding light in Indonesia’s literary scene. Known for his modesty and deep dedication, he has shaped generations of writers through mentorship and community leadership.

A senior mentor at “Pondok Puisi Inspirasi Masyarakat” : Poetry Community of Indonesian Society’s Inspirations (PPIPM-Indonesia), Anto is also an active member of the Indonesian Writers’ Community (Satu Pena), Creators of the AI Era, and Poetry-Pen International. His voice has become a bridge between tradition and innovation in poetry.
A few of Anto’s thousand poems are avaible for to be accessed by public on https://suaraanaknegerinews.com/category/anto-narasoma/.

In 2022, his lifelong contribution was recognized with a Literary Award from the Spanish International Literary Association, honoring both his poetic depth and quiet influence on global literary exchange.

Anto’s legacy is not only etched in his verses but also lives on in the many writers he continues to inspire with words that resonate far beyond the page.

—–

About the Translator – Leni Marlina

Leni Marlina is an Indonesian poet, writer, translator, and lecturer in the English Department, Faculty of Languages and Arts, at Universitas Negeri Padang, Indonesia since 2006. Her creative and scholarly work spans poetry, fiction, essays, literary criticism, review, translation, and literacy studies.

Alongside her academic career, she is actively involved in literary journalism and literacy advocacy. She serves as a writer, contributor, editor, and editorial board member for SAN Digital Media Group—including Suara Anak Negeri News, Suara Anak Negeri, and Negeri News—where she publishes literary works, essays, articles, and reports on education, literature, culture, and humanitarian issues.

Marlina is also the founder and chairperson of several international literary and literacy communities, including PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen International Community (PPIC), Littalk-C Literary Talk Community, Translation Practice Community (Trans-PC), and the World Children’s Literature Community (WCLC). She is also an active member of several professional writers organizations, including SatuPena West Sumatra and PLS. Since 2012 she has been affiliated with the Victorian Writers Centre in Australia, and since 2024 has also been a member of the Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association (ACC SHILA).

——-

The original Indonesian version of Anto Narasoma’s poems collection above is available for public to be accessed in this official link below:

FAKTA DI MATAKU: SAJAK-SAJAK ANTO NARASOMA

/1/

THE WOUNDED LAND

Poem by Mustiar Ar

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

This earth is not merely a stretch of land,
within it flows the blood of our forebears.
Greedy hands gnaw away at the earth’s belly,
forests lose their hair, rivers carry their wounds.
Upon the barren soil, the people count their rice,
while those in power count their profits.
O, those in power, listen to the voice of the earth—
it is silent, but it never forgets.

–

Meulaboh, Aceh, Indonesia, 1980

—

/2/

I AM NOT YET FINISHED WITH LIFE

Poem by Mustiar Ar

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

I have fallen before, between silence and wounds,
yet the earth taught me how to rise again.
The sky knows how many times I have held back my tears,
and the night keeps the cries I have never spoken aloud.
I keep walking, though my steps are not always steady,
carrying dreams almost broken inside my chest.
For life is not about who is the strongest,
but who keeps enduring when loneliness arrives.
If today I can still write my name,
it is because hope has not yet chosen to leave.
Let time test my body and my soul,
for I am not yet finished with this life.

–

Meulaboh, Aceh, Indonesia, June 24th, 2026

—

/3/

SILENCE CALLS MY NAME

Poem by Mustiar Ar

Translated (Indonesia – English) by Leni Marlina

–

Night slowly closes its door,
leaving me alone with the shadows.
In the distance, the wind calls my name,
like longing that cannot find an address.
I gaze at the sky without asking
why the stars have chosen to stay apart.
Perhaps silence is teaching me
that loss does not always mean the end.
Amid the darkness, I find a ray of light,
growing from a wound I once hated.
Now I am no longer afraid of silence,
for there I have found myself.

–

Meulaboh, Aceh, Indonesia, September 5th, 2026

—-

About the Poet — Mustiar Ar

Mustiar Ar, affectionately known as Bang One, was born in Meulaboh, West Aceh. He is known as a writer and arts practitioner. Rooted in simplicity, he writes about humanity, honesty, and the struggles of life. His works emerge from the streets, remain grounded in reality, and speak with a courageous yet compassionate heart.

—

About — Leni Marlina

Leni Marlina is an Indonesian poet, writer, translator, and lecturer in the English Department, Faculty of Languages and Arts, at Universitas Negeri Padang, Indonesia since 2006. Her creative and scholarly work spans poetry, fiction, essays, literary criticism, review, translation, and literacy studies.

———-

Kumpulan Puisi Karya Mustiar Ar: “TANAH YANG TERLUKA”

/1/

TANAH YANG TERLUKA

Puisi: Mustiar Ar

–

Tanah ini bukan sekadar hamparan,
di dalamnya darah para pendahulu.
Tangan serakah menggerogoti perut bumi,
hutan kehilangan rambut, sungai membawa luka.
Di tanah kerontang, rakyat menghitung beras,
sementara penguasa menghitung keuntungan.
Duh, penguasa, dengarkan suara tanah—
ia diam, tetapi tak pernah lupa.

–

Meulaboh, Aceh, 1980

—–

/2/

AKU BELUM SELESAI DENGAN HIDUP

Puisi: Mustiar Ar

–

Aku pernah jatuh di antara sunyi dan luka,
namun tanah mengajariku cara untuk bangkit.
Langit tahu berapa kali aku menahan air mata,
dan malam menyimpan jerit yang tak pernah terucap.
Aku berjalan meski langkah tak selalu sempurna,
membawa mimpi yang nyaris patah di dada.
Sebab hidup bukan tentang siapa paling kuat,
melainkan siapa yang tetap bertahan ketika sepi.
Jika hari ini aku masih menulis namaku,
itu karena harapan belum memilih pergi.
Biarlah waktu menguji tubuh dan jiwaku,
sebab aku belum selesai dengan hidup ini.

–

Meulaboh, Aceh, 24 Juni 2026

—-

/3/

SUNYI MEMANGGIL NAMAKU

Puisi: Mustiar Ar

–

Malam menutup pintunya perlahan,
meninggalkan aku bersama bayang-bayang.
Di kejauhan, angin menyebut namaku,
seperti rindu yang tak menemukan alamat.
Aku menatap langit tanpa bertanya,
mengapa bintang memilih berjauhan.
Barangkali sunyi sedang mengajarkanku,
bahwa kehilangan tak selalu berarti berakhir.
Di antara gelap, kutemukan seberkas cahaya,
tumbuh dari luka yang pernah kubenci.
Kini aku tak lagi takut pada kesunyian,
sebab di sanalah aku menemukan diriku sendiri.

–

Meulaboh, Aceh, 5 September 2026

——

Tentang Penyair – Mustiar Ar

Mustiar Ar, atau yang akrab dengan sebutan Bang One, lahir di Meulaboh, Aceh Barat. Ia dikenal sebagai penulis dan penggiat seni. Dari kesederhanaan, ia menulis tentang kemanusiaan, kejujuran, dan perjuangan hidup. Karyanya lahir dari jalanan, berpijak pada realitas, dan berbicara dengan hati yang berani serta santun.

—-

Tentang Penerjemah — Leni Marlina

Leni Marlina adalah penyair, penulis, penerjemah, dan dosen pada Departemen Sastra Inggris, Fakultas Bahasa dan Seni, Universitas Negeri Padang, Indonesia, sejak 2006. Karya kreatif dan akademiknya meliputi puisi, fiksi, esai, kritik sastra, penerjemahan, dan kajian literasi.