Sajak Tomas Transtromer
Aku hidupkan mesin mobil.
Jatuhan serbuk-sari memenuh di kacadepan.
Aku kenakan kacamata hitam,
dan lagu burung-burung jadi kelam.
Ada seseorang membeli surat-kabar,
di stasiun kereta api
tak jauh dari mobil bagus yang besar itu
yang seluruhnya memerah karena karat
dan berkerlipan di bawah matahari.
Tak ada kekosongan di manapun di sini ini.
Tepat di seberang hangat musim-semi: lorong dingin
ada seseorang lekas datang bergegas
dia bilang mereka telah memfitnah dia
sepenuhnya dia berserah pada Sang Sutradara.
Lewati satu pintu belakang di bentang lansekap
datanglah seekor jalak,
hitam dan putih, burung Ratu Kematian
dan seekor burung-hitam terbang saling-silang
lalu segalanya menjadi gambar arang,
kecuali bentang putih pada tali penjemuran:
Paduan suara Palestrina.
Tak ada kekosongan di manapun di sini ini.
::
Morning Birds
I wake my car.
It's windshield is covered by pollen.
I put on my sunglasses
and the song of the birds darkens.
While another man buys a newspaper
in the railroad station
near a large goods wagon
which is entirely red with rust
and stands flickering in the sun.
No emptiness anywhere here.
Straight across the spring warmth a cold corridor
where someone comes hurrying
to say that they are slandering him
all the way up to the Director.
Through a backdoor in the landscape
comes the magpie
black and white, Hel's bird
And the blackbird moving crisscross
until everything becomes a charcoal drawing,
except for the white sheets on the clothesline:
a Palestrina choir.
No emptiness anywhere here.
:: translated by Gunnar Harding and Frederic Will
