Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Goenawan Mohamad

PRAYER FOR REFUGE (IN A RUMANIAN CHURCH)

My Lord who permeates
the wooden walls of this village
church, let me inter thy name,
in this empty valley.

Don’t let this be thy kingdom.

Free me from these dark
narrows so like a fearful
heaven.

Give me
a spell, from a foreign chant,
like the Hebrew word
on the priest’s tongue.

Give me
the red of spilled wine
before they come

before they
cross the farmers’ graveyard
and seize you
from the sleeping congregation
of this Gethsemane.

Oh, my Lord who has vanished
into the wooden walls
so dark, as dark as tobacco,
let me hide thy name, 

let me shelve my hunger,
my fear,
my sword.

Doa Persembunyian (di Sebuah Greja Rumania)

Doa Persembunyian (di Sebuah Greja Rumania)

Tuhan yang meresap di ruang kayu
di greja dusun,
di lembah yang kosong itu,
kusisipkan namamu.

Jangan jadikan kerajaanmu.

Bebaskan aku dari sempit yang gelap
seperti surga
yang gemetar ini.

Beri aku
tuah, dari isim yang asing
seperti sepatah kata Ibrani
dari lidah tuan padri.

Beri aku
merah anggur yang tumpah,
sebelum mereka datang

sebelum mereka
melintasi makam peladang
dan menangkapmu
dari jemaah yang tidur
di Getsemani ini.

O Tuhan yang lenyap
dalam ruang kayu
yang hitam, sehitam tembakau
kusembunyikan namamu

kusisihkan laparku
takutku,
pedangku.
Close

PRAYER FOR REFUGE (IN A RUMANIAN CHURCH)

My Lord who permeates
the wooden walls of this village
church, let me inter thy name,
in this empty valley.

Don’t let this be thy kingdom.

Free me from these dark
narrows so like a fearful
heaven.

Give me
a spell, from a foreign chant,
like the Hebrew word
on the priest’s tongue.

Give me
the red of spilled wine
before they come

before they
cross the farmers’ graveyard
and seize you
from the sleeping congregation
of this Gethsemane.

Oh, my Lord who has vanished
into the wooden walls
so dark, as dark as tobacco,
let me hide thy name, 

let me shelve my hunger,
my fear,
my sword.

PRAYER FOR REFUGE (IN A RUMANIAN CHURCH)

My Lord who permeates
the wooden walls of this village
church, let me inter thy name,
in this empty valley.

Don’t let this be thy kingdom.

Free me from these dark
narrows so like a fearful
heaven.

Give me
a spell, from a foreign chant,
like the Hebrew word
on the priest’s tongue.

Give me
the red of spilled wine
before they come

before they
cross the farmers’ graveyard
and seize you
from the sleeping congregation
of this Gethsemane.

Oh, my Lord who has vanished
into the wooden walls
so dark, as dark as tobacco,
let me hide thy name, 

let me shelve my hunger,
my fear,
my sword.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère