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■ The oak
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He who knows earth’s matters, the secret ones
He who knows true tales He who knows beautiful legends He who knows sharp and powerful words Your mind is as sharp as an arrow Your eyes are as bright as embers Your ears wave like flags Your lips move gently like a parrot’s beak When have you spoken in vain? Your heart is full of modesty You prefer keeping secrets You prevent people from spreading what reveal So, who shall continue your amazing talent? Jogjakarta, 7 February 2002 * This poem is dedicated to my late beloved grandfather (my mother’s father), Simon Petrus Tunliu (±1896-1996), a common farmer and folk-historian (genealogist), originating from the village of Sunu, South Amanatun, South Central Timor, East Nusa Tenggara Province, Indonesia. The Dawanese/Uab Meto version: Atekanab nâko Yohanes Manhitu Ahin lais pah ma nifu, lais leü; Ahin etus ma tonas amaneot; Ahin nuun ma hanaf amasat; Ahin hanfuaf aaikat-amâtanes. Ho tenbe naäik onlê anesfut; Ho matmu npin onlê ai flâ; Ho luekmu nhaek onlê penpene; Ho lulmu nmaleit onlê kol-kitâ ini. Lekë et ho muüab kalan-kalan? Ho muheun mok nek-baun. Ho mmalinan mis lasi 'tolô. Ho mkaû tuaf he kaisâ nabenon ho lasi. Neu, sekau et mes natutan hine amaneot? Jogjakarta, 7 Funnuâ 2003
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