Cilenggang
This is Cilenggang, as
I picture it in words, for I hadn’t got a camera then:
Just by going down a
path through a bamboo-wood, I got a captivating view of Eden’s garden in a
valley below.
And as Adam, my eyes, delightedly,
enjoyed to see a verdant earth, a waterfall on the hills far away and the rice
fields near below. My feet tripped, danced along a winding path, following a
brook with rich vegetation bordering the sides and lovely, laughing, washing,
bathing nymphs and women. My ears feasted on sounds of falling water in the
rice fields and fishponds.
I deeply breathed the pure fresh air, I bought me cendol (gelatin drops
in iced sweet coconut milk) of a vendor, sitting somewhere lingering on a
trunk, my heart so grateful, rapturously singing, though it was just in
Cilenggang, not in Bali, the island of the Gods.
And that was but some
twenty years ago – perhaps some of you are not yet born - and now they’re no
more. Who would miss them?
September 2012
January 2014
This is my book. You can read it.
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