Unfinished Answer

If about incarnation this lingering sensation, I am asked
a daylong singing melodies, as an answer will not be sufficed

It is not heavy, as not light
It is not dark, as not bright
It is not lament, as not joyful
It is not empty, as not full
It is not crowded, as not abandoned
It is not smooth, as not rippled
It is not vast, as not tiny
It is not fragile, as not sturdy

I am just from nowhere pierced
and now already round the circle trapped

Very grateful somewhat
that your job has been done
Very misearable somewhat
that your job has been done

Maybe would be sufficed that one answer
which the beautiful voice of yours could be heard no longer

But maybe will not be sufficed that one answer

Bandung
31th January 2008 - 04.21

Revised:
Bandung, 16th December 2008 - 18.55
Bandung, 19th December 2008 - 14.43

Side note:
I wrote this poem almost one year ago (but recently revised it twice). I read it three days ago, after it stayed for a long time in my pile of papers. After finished read it, I realized that I need to bring a writing tool (paper and pen) and a camera anywhere I go, so that I could record any events or idea I like. And those two things can be summed up in a laptop.. so the conclusion is I need a laptop.. just joking. Anyway, the idea that was struck to my mind was I need always be ready to capture any flashing events or ideas, for we can't turn back time (or precisely, we haven't had any means to turn back time yet). There are people say "history repeats itself", but I believe that every history is never be the same, although maybe that certain history is considered to be repeating.

Three days ago, when I read it, the first thing flashed in my mind was "what is this melancholy feeling". After a thorough reading, I realized that I was lamenting someone, an artist that died on my birthday a year ago. Her works not that superb and I am not really a fan of her, but somehow when listening her last album a strong sense of melancholy came to me, and then I wrote it. Although very well known in her country, she lived modestly and mostly out of public, which sometime led some people to think that she was never existed. But, I believe that she just have a very shy personality, because I really like a humble and modest artist and that's why I respect her. For the first time I wrote it, this poem was especially dedicated to her. But after some revising, I thought that this poem was made because of her and dedicated to everyone who feels the same as I am, when losing someone.

Yes, this poem made because of her. So thanks a lot Izumi Sakai-san.