dina oktaviani

WHAT HAPPENS TONIGHT

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(klik di sini untuk versi bahasa indonesia)

i cannot write about tonight
my words can’t describe the rain
like other poets have done in their rights
it simply soaks my ground in his absence

i cannot write about tonight
my mind can’t remember his face
the way my body craves his scent
and honesty in some of his kisses

where does love go when it can’t stay
to the past where all my pain rests
to the future where no dream awaits
does it simply break apart in our own ways

men and women pass me by
oblivious to their own umbrella
i apologise each time they hit my eye
for my existence seems to be an error

i cannot write about tonight
while his shadow is on the run
i cannot right the wrong it’s done
to the light, to my solitary heart

d.o.
london, january 2026

APA YANG TERJADI MALAM INI

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aku tak bisa menulis tentang malam ini
kata-kataku tak bisa menggambarkan hujan
seperti para penyair lain dalam kebenaran
ia cuma menguyupi tanahku tanpanya di sini

aku tak bisa menulis tentang malam ini
pikiranku tak bisa mengingat wajahnya
seperti tubuhku mengharapkan wangi
dan kejujuran dalam beberapa ciumannya

ke mana cinta pergi kalau tak bisa tinggal
ke masa lalu tempat dukaku istirah
ke masa depan tempan mimpi tak menanti
atau hancur saja dengan cara sendiri-sendiri

laki-laki dan perempuan melintasiku
tanpa memperhatikan payung di tangan
aku minta maaf tiap kali tertusuk mataku
sebab keberadaanku sepertinya kesalahan

aku tak bisa menulis tentang malam ini
sedang bayangannya dalam pelarian
tak bisa kuperbaiki salah yang dilakukan
pada terang, pada hatiku yang sendiri

d.o.
london, january 2026

SOBBING MERRIMENT

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–jh

(klik di sini untuk versi bahasa indonesia)

where does tonight carry the seine
when the rain’s left, and sorrow’s no longer right
two pairs of shoes, one of them wet from the ground
taking their time finding the bridge

one by one lovers turned into loners
returned to where they belong –
in the prayers of hungry artists
far from the ghosts of my gentleness
stuttered in declaring their objections

where does the seine carry tonight
before the tower’s lights turned out
and all faith quietly drowned
like dust penetrating the surface
not lost, yet may no longer be found

there is no line i could denounce
about the god that’s closer than my neck vein
when my silence steamed up your glasses
— taking them off i hide from the sobbing merriment

london-sherborne, october 2024

KEGEMBIRAAN SESENGGUKAN

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–jh

(click here for the english version)

ke mana malam ini membawa sungai seine
setelah hujan pergi, dan kesedihan tak benar lagi
dua pasang sepatu, yang satu basah karena hujan
mengambil waktu mencari jembatan

satu per satu, kekasih menjelma orang kesepian
kembali ke tempat mereka berada –
dalam doa seniman lapar
jauh dari hantu kelembutanku
gagu dalam menyatakan keberatan

ke mana sungai seine membawa malam ini
sebelum lampu menara dimatikan
dan semua kepercayaan diam-diam tenggelam
seperti debu yang menembus permukaan
tak hilang, namun tak lagi tertemukan

tak ada kalimat yang bisa kubatalkan
tentang tuhan yang lebih dekat dari urat leherku
ketika diamku menguap di kacamatamu
– menanggalkannya, kusembunyi dari kegembiraan sesenggukan

london – sherborne, oktober 2024

PLATH: THIS IS NOT I 

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SONY DSCSeven years ago, I was invited to perform my poetry in Jakarta on one of the two nights of a literary event.

I just finished, at that time, a poetry performance project with some young musician and artist friends and had successfully performed in two cities. However, the committee of the event in Jakarta wanted me to perform alone, just me and my poetry, or in the man-in-charge’s own words: “could you just come without your boyfriend?” He sounded bitter, and he was wrong – my then boyfriend had nothing to do with art except that of making me cry. Love, love, love… Continue reading →

THE OLD SMOKE

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(klik di sini untuk versi bahasa indonesia)

i have no memories
to start a conversation
there were only thrills that grew
while the chances had begun to paralyse

they say silence means yes
but you’re not asking any questions
except about the wind, except about others
i don’t have the answers

i still often hang about the kitchen
pretending to cook yet sobbing
only because we were not talking
as if we were a couple of burdens, as we are now

they say if you love you remember everything
every kiss which if discussed
would wound the meaning of ‘ex-lover’
while being kept would turn into bruises

the night has stopped by, “another cigarette,” you said
a fire squeezed my hand, twice
i thought time was up, although time
has nothing to do with my heart

yogyakarta-dorset, 2014

ASAP LAMA

/ dinaoktaviani / 2 Comments

(click here for the english version)

aku tak punya kenangan
untuk membuka percakapan
hanya ada bungah yang terus tumbuh
sementara kesempatan sudah mulai lumpuh

kata orang kalau diam saja berarti iya
tapi kamu tidak bertanya tentang apa-apa
selain angin, selain orang-orang lain
aku tak punya jawabannya

aku masih sering berdiri di dapur
pura-pura memasak tapi mengisak
hanya karena kita diam-diaman
seperti sepasang beban, seperti sekarang

kata orang kalau cinta ingat semuanya
setiap ciuman yang kalau dibahas
akan melukai makna ‘mantan pacar’
sementara dipendam bakal jadi memar

malam sudah singgah, “serokokan,” katamu
ada api meremas tanganku, dua kali
kukira waktunya sudah habis, walaupun waktu
tak ada urusannya dengan hatiku

yogyakarta-dorset, 2014

FOR THE LOVE OF THE RAIN

/ dinaoktaviani / 5 Comments

Believe me when I say it was miserable, but also believe me when I say I loved it.

I’m a mess. I love walking in the rain on my own.

In my garden in Indonesia I used to sit in the tropical rain, raining. That made a painful view for the people who loved me, but when they had loved me better they’d leave me alone.

The rain is my sacred place since my childhood. There’s something about being alone with the rain that makes me so in touch with the exiled feelings inside me.

Those that do not suit the dry days reality, or the reality at all, or so it seems.

Those that make me alive, exist, brokenly whole.

–dina oktaviani

ROADKILL

/ dinaoktaviani / 2 Comments

(klik di sini untuk versi bahasa indonesia)

a golden light through the farmer’s window
a song from the war as i pass under the abandoned railway bridge
a field of rape rising up from behind the young hedges
none of it touches me

i am breathing scars in my brain
my heart is useless
it is so worn out i can’t walk in it!

papa would you love me if i befriended your god;
and mama would you ask how i am if you were not dying?

there is no road kill from somerset to dorset tonight
but they’re all dead in tanjungkarang

the wind is waiting, i suppose
nothing am i fearing

dorset, 2013