ACEP APRILYANA, A YOUNG SUNDANESE POET FROM JAVA, IS WORKING IN BALI.
HE LEARNED TO GROW RICE FROM HIS GRANDFATHER.
MY POETRY FARMERS
It’s not a beautiful poem.
It’s a poem standing guard.
When the earth is raped, my ink sweats,
Sunburning my paper jet.
I do not know the poetry of flowers
For here, the soil is
decorated with a dream
and unable to speak.
O rice ..
Please give my kind compliments to the country’s leaders
Arriving into the mouth of the gate
They are good at talking.
O fruit ..
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