by Robert Frost
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them 'Supper'....
November 20, 2013
November 4, 2013
Sebentar
Bagaikan angin,
datangnya seketika.
Meniup dan berlalu lembut di pipi
Menari dalam buai yang mengasyikkan
Jiwa terasa tenang dalam indahnya ia
Disaat pergi,
dicarinya lagi
sehingga terpijak duri duri
terluka diri
kadang langkah itu membawa ke tepi
kelam dan membenam
sepertinya dalam mimpi
memanah jiwa sepi
penat
perjalanan ini jauh sekali
entahkan bila datangnya lagi
harapkan angin meniup pergi...
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