The Dog and the Ninth Beer --Djenar Maesa Ayu (1973- ), translated by Thomas Lo From behind, the dark eyes of the night opened wide staring at a dog which lived in a bottle of beer "This dog," you said, "Is the bastard that betrayed us." Then we siphoned the fiery liquor made it into a strange stuff that only we could understand. As for the rest, there was only desire blindly following the loneliness. We would never forget: the beach filled with darkness, and unimaginable lies. Gently we buried the desire, which was much silent than the eyes of the dead. We wrote of nothingness with our shaky hands. The words were piles of bones thus burned into charcoal. And with those charcoal words, we wrote graffiti on the city walls but the painfulness was slashing its own heart. Under the weird moon (as if the squinted eye of a leper, you said) the dog in beer bottle was staring at us; while we two liars insist on believing there is a Goodness of World. "A city with its entire population attacked by a mad dog that might be an interesting story." But in such a city full of liars, Who is the bastard: the mad dog or us? Then I talked about the revolution. Revolution is a dog which feed on the sadnesses given birth by itself “Right now I do not need revolution,” you said “I need a maxi pad. My menstruation comes again.” I answered: it's sad for men. It’s like as our tongues touched each other, thinking we were wet enough to travel the heaven; billions of galaxies died in graves. You pointed out: those nine bright stars, a less famous constellation. "Perhaps, these stars presage that in the future, we will die as apostles" But, unlike the last supper, on the ninth bottle of beer I went away from the beach. Left you alone. In the distance was the silhouette of a glittering city. And thousands of dogs were howling, in my heart. 2013 https://agusnoorfiles.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/anjing-dan-bir-kesembilan/#more-793 Anjing Dan Bir Kesembilan --Djenar Maesa Ayu (1973- ) Dari balik kegelapan mata malam itu nyalang, menatap seekor anjing yang hidup dalam sebotol bir. “Anjing ini,” katamu, “anak jadah pengkhianatan kita.” Lalu kita suling arak api, menjadi keganjilan yang hanya kita pahami sendiri. Selebihnya, hanya birahi taklid pada sepi. Kita akan mengingat: pantai menyimpan gelap, dusta yang tak terduga. Perlahan kita memendam birahi, yang lebih sunyi dari mata orang mati. Kita menulis dengan kekosongan dan tangan gamang. Kata-kata adalah onggokan tulang-belulang yang telah jadi arang. Dan dengan arang kata-kata , di tembok kota kita menuliskan grafiti, tapi nyerinya menyayat jantung sendiri. Di bawah bulan yang ganjil (seperti mata juling pengidap kusta, katamu) anjing dalam botol bir menatap marah ke arah kita; dua pendusta yang bersikeras percaya pada kebaikan dunia. “Sebuah kota yang seluruh penduduknya terserang anjing gila, mungkin menarik sebagai cerita.” Tapi di kota penuh pendusta, siapa lebih jadah: anjing gila ataukah kita? Lalu aku bercerita tentang revolusi. Revolusi adalah anjing yang memakan kesedihan anak-anaknya sendiri. “Saat ini aku tak butuh revolusi,” katamu. “Aku butuh pembalut. Aku lagi menstruasi.” Kujawab: itu menyedihkan bagi laki-laki. Seolah lidah saling bersentuhan, pikiran kita yang basah menjelajahi langit; kuburan bermilyar galaxy mati. Kau menunjuk: sembilan bintang terang, rasi yang belum terkenali. “Barangkali, bintang itu menandai, kelak, kita mati sebagai Wali” Tapi, tak seperti perjamun penghabisan, pada botol bir kesembilan aku menjauh dari pantai. Meninggalkanmu sendiri. Di kejauhan silhuet kota gemerlapan. Terdengar ribuan anjing melolong, dalam jantungku. 2013 -- http://blog.roodo.com/kamadevas --

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