Once I heard an elderly old man
[ Karnga Riba ]
An old monotonous soul
Like there was something calling in the dark
Although the window was open, sunshine poured into the room
Trepidation building up inside from the shadows of dungeon
I was a pristine youth bumping into common talk
Viewed vintage soul rambling clamor
With his walking stick clacking
And a far-flung croaking radio.
Such a racket it seemed.
Empathetic as another antisocial being,
Catching some phrases in midair it emphasized weight.
The clamor clearer
He had a story to tell
The days so fine in summertime; hunting in rainy days,
I leaned for more voice; a young business fellow.
I used to carry salt sags from one village to another.”
Hmmm, I added
All this lands were jungle, his cataract eyes twitched
I and my party cleared the land, as unsaid rule went
The more land you clear the more land you owned.
Look! I built my empire with my own hands,
A legacy for my child I thought.
Look! How things have changed
I am old and lonesome.
My old lady is always in church carols.
My radio and this TV to give me company
The black and white screen buzzed some girbish.
I once heard he had offered mithuns by the dozens
His bride a young, lovely maiden.
Do you see how my aged skin hangs?
The world signs its time.
I have told my last wishes
My grave has already been dug near the entrance.
Next to kin celebrating himi donum every year.
Lingering for end of my last breath.
Once I used to be notable guest in every village kebang
Clad in bolup and yellow tadok
My voice praised and honored.
Now they pay me their regards and go upstairs
While I feed on tidbits of discussions I no longer hear.
He began to groan loudly,
The pain was taking its toll,
Arthritis or old age, I wasn’t sure;
Wistful and lost for words,
As kins crowded the blue,
The night began to draw;
There is so much more than eyes can meet.
