Federico Garcia Lorca
Di cakrawala, tak seorang tertidur.
Tak seorang pun, tak seorang pun.
Tak seorang pun tertidur.
Binatang malam mengendus bulan,
mengincar mangsa di kandangnya.
Ada iguana yang kelak menjelma
dan mengerkah engkau yang tak bermimpi,
dan sia-sia engkau yang menghambur kabur
dengan jiwa hancur, di sudut jalan itu
diam-diam sudah menunggu: aligator
di langit, bintang-bintang menggerutu.
Di bumi, tak seorang tertidur.
Tak seorang pun, tak seorang pun.
Tak seorang pun tertidur.
Di lapangan kuburan, ada jerangkong
tiga tahun sudah: merintih meraung
tersebab negeri yang kering di lututnya;
dan arwah bocah yang dikubur tadi sore
keras menangis, sejadi-jadinya tangis.
Lekas panggil anjing datang, biar lolongnya
mengembalikan mereka kepada sunyi.
Hidup bukanlah mimpi. Awaslah! Awaslah!
Kita jatuh dari itu tangga, menyantap basah tanah.
Kita memanjati mata pisau itu salju dengan
suara kelopak mati bunga-bunga dahlia.
Tapi, tak ada khilaf, tak ada mimpi-mimpi;
kecuali aroma daging!
Ciuman menambatkan mulut kita
pada belukar urat-urat darah,
dan siapa pun yang mengekalkan duka
kelak merasai itu duka selamanya.
dan siapa pun yang takutkan kematian
ancaman itu terus ada di pundaknya.
Suatu hari nanti
kuda-kuda terikat kekangnya di depan salun.
Dan semut-semut yang meradang
melemparkan diri sendiri ke langit kuning
sebelum mengungsi di mata sapi-sapi.
Lain hari
Kita saksikan, bangkit bangkai kupu-kupu
lalu terbang di atas bunga karang kelabu
dan perahu-perahu mengapung bisu.
Kita saksikan cincin berkilat dan mawar
bersemi di lidah-lidah kita.
Awaslah! Awaslah! Berhati-hatilah!
Dia yang masih mencagar tanda cakar
dan masih menabung bagai bertarung,
dan bocah lelaki yang menangis meraung
tersebab tak pernah tahu siapa
yang lebih dahulu menemukan jembatan,
atau orang mati itu yang kini tinggal kepala
dan sepasang sepatu,
kita harus menghalau mereka ke tembok
di sana iguana dan ular menunggu sabar,
di sana gigi-gigi beruang menunggu tenang,
di sana potongan tangan bocah menunggu resah,
dan bulu-bulu unta tegak meremang,
sebelum akhirnya cekam lagu biola biru.
Di cakrawala, tak seorang tertidur.
Tak seorang pun, tak seorang pun.
Tak seorang tertidur.
Bila ada yang memejamkan mata,
ada cemeti, ah bocah, ada cemeti!
Biarkan terbentang pandang mata nyalang
dan pedih luka-luka di api nyala.
Tak seorang tertidur di dunia.
Tak seorang pun, tak seorang pun.
Sudah kusebut itu sebelum bait ini.
Tak seorang tertidur.
Tapi bila ada yang membiarkan tumbuh lumut
di kuil-kuilnya sepanjang malam buta,
buka saja pintu rahasia, agar dilihatnya purnama,
gelas piala, dan peracun nyawa, dan
di panggung itu: tengkorak kepala.
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City That Does Not Sleep
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.
Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.
Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.
One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
eyes of cows.
Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful! Be careful! Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.
Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.
I have said it before.
No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.
Translated by Robert Bly
