The poems of Baltasar Lukem

The poems of Baltasar Lukem

A hunchbacked grandmother
standing on the overhang of the grocery store,
worn coat, shabby hood.
tired face, empty eyes
full of compassion, awaiting alms from the pilgrims of the city.

Peacock hair
look pale
you’re wrinkled, I can’t take it.
The mind is disturbed, seeing the shabby body,
the north winter wind is blowing.

What the hell is forcing you;
earn a living at the overhanging monument
no one to support you,
at the end of the pilgrimage to mortal earth.
Where are your children, grandchildren, city volunteers?

On a ripe altar
palms trembling with cold,
I put love in smiling,
“Happy Women’s Day,” I whispered slowly.

joy
ray of love,
unstoppable gita.
Full of gratitude, chapped lips appeared.
“Thank you, God protect you,” he replied.

A piece of sincere prayer
sincere heart expression
twilight girl
knocking on the door of the temple of God,
blessing for the assistant.

March 8, 2021

on New Year’s Eve,
dice united family.
all new clothes,
in a sad spirit.

on New Year’s Eve,
at the banquet table all together.
Enjoy a meal full of joy,
sweat of father, mother.

on New Year’s Eve,
fun gift exchange.
No matter what it contains,
love engraved in the hearts of others.

on New Year’s Eve,
let’s have a joke.
In the game we fight,
while waiting for the passage of time.

on New Year’s Eve,
crammed into the heart of the city.
Everyone unite,
accept each other as brothers.

on New Year’s Eve,
gather around the christmas tree
Let’s sing a song together
expression of mutual love.

on New Year’s Eve,
sparks pierce the sky.
Let’s put our hands together and say a prayer,
give thanks to the Creator.

March 5, 2021

Man,
you are beautiful Imago Dei¹,
Allah’s most beautiful deposit
like the great painter
you are created, incomparable masterpiece
all kinds of works in the universe of wuwungan sky.

Man,
you are beautiful Imago Dei,
capable of loving and being loved.
Worship God with all your heart, soul, body,
and love others, sincere, honest modest.

Man,
you are beautiful Imago Dei,
like the most beautiful painting
on an expanse of white canvas.
Charming and attractive appearance, appearance
above all other creation in a foreign land.

Man,
you are beautiful Imago Dei,
crown of spirit
to think and create.
Leave your mark before
say goodbye. Give a service,
your creations are inked in gold,
on memory tablets, let it last forever.

]Imago Dei; image or image of God

March 9, 2021

The night
big festive party,
the townspeople celebrate
historic war victory.
Police, soldiers, busy organizing, guarding,
ready to see if there is a spark of fireworks.

I am young smoothing
in the overflowing streets,
applaud, dance happily.
Grandparents laughing at home,
enjoy the vodka in a superficial and measured way.

blow of a cannon
growl a sign
the event has started. Let’s do
singing, accompanied garmoshka and balalaika.

[1] The Garmoshka, a typical Russian accordion, was first discovered in St. Petersburg in 1783. The balalaika, a string instrument, consists of three strings.

March 6, 2021

hovering high,
standing on the city front
Your appearance fascinates visitors.
attracts a thousand pairs of eyes.
Unmatched in appearance and style in the world,
here standing eternally in the land of Tsarisina.

They call you;
Bloody Church, don’t be fooled;
in the history books,
here the king shed blood.

March 12, 2021

Indonesia is the homeland of blood,
engraved like a painting on the curve of the heart.
I won’t forget forever, until
soul separated from the body, ashes transformed into dust.

I ventured to Petersburg,
a lot of hope in the chest.
Weaving a passionate friendship,
for the good of our common humanity.

Cities, villages that I explore,
village, hamlet that I followed.
Proclaim the true love of peace,
envy in the heart.

To my beloved country,
leave the desire to maintain feelings.
Spread the seduction of Coconut Island
in the tone of Indonesia, Homeland.

March 5, 2021

Thick clouds above the village boundary,
carried by the wind in the heart of the city.
Dark black in color, like a puff
the smog of the jungle. The white rain goes
soon caress the earth, decorate the streets,
crown the roofs of old houses at the end of the season.

Dreaming about eating
the morning sun is empty,
the supply of ultraviolet light was delayed.
No need to be angry and upset by the universe,
or the clouds in the sky Double your patience
While waiting for the hour, everything has its time.

March 4, 2021

Baltasar Lukem, a Catholic clergyman, born in Flores, East Nusa Tenggara, January 11, 1969. He enjoys reading, writing and visiting museums. From 1999 until today, he has carried out religious missions in Russia. From 2000 to 2012 he carried out missions in Moscow and Vologda. In 2012-present, performing missionary duties in St. Petersburg. Baltasan’s poems are included in the Anthology of Poetry Prayer of the Fatherland: the voice of the students of the Pushkin Country which will be published soon. Now lives and works in Saint Petersburg.

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