obmar
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If this whole life is a Poem.
The sooner we start the better.
as waiting
begets waiting
and begets
further waiting
So ending
to be
a begetter
of too many waitings.
obmar 2007
So here I go.
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obmar
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THE POEM OF SUNGAI PAHANG -I-THE POEM OF SUNGAI PAHANG -I-
Stop, oh sons and daughters of warriors, let us pause to seek justice for those that have left.
Here were their path along this murky rivers between Pekan and Lipis.
The traces of the sounds of their Gong are not wholly silent even now.
For when their sweats dry their muscles still ached upon the thousand pushes that they made that day.
The heat and wind mingles on the barely covered skins of age;
The floating timber moves silently downstream while a kingfisher stays aloof waiting for the next prey.
On the morning of our separation it was as if I stood in the gardens of our clan,
Amid the bamboo clumps where my eyes were blinded with tears I recall their efforts.
As I lament thus in the place made desolate, my ancestors stop their Bamboo rafts;
They cry to me "Do not die of grief; bear this sorrow patiently."
Nay, the cure of my hope must come from inspirations.
Yet, is there any inspiration that all can bring me reminders of the yesteryears?
So before ever I told about GrandPa, did I mourn for others;
My effort had not been the same with him and his friend Haji Sidin.
Fair were they also, diffusing the odor of flood as they moved,
Like the soft crayon bringing with it the scenery of the seas.
Thus the tears flowed down on my breast, remembering days of hardship;
The tears wetted even my belt, so tender was their forgotten effort.
obmar
may 31st 2007
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