By Akbar Fida Anonta

As the sun goes down and the sky turns scarlet,

The birds returned to their nest, to their home;

The animals went to hunt or rest,

But the river kept flowing, and it went on.

The boulders couldn’t stop it, neither could the fall.

Its aim is straight, as straight as the tree standing by it,

Whose branches touch the sky, and shade that hides the light,

The point of peace for the kid who’s there, for the view,

And for the calmness of the endless stream.

It has been barely a few moments, 

For the one who’s been there for a long time.

As visitors came to enjoy the stream,

And found the rotten flesh emerging from the blue,

With scars filled with a naïve butchers’ work,

They figured the world and let it rest.

The kid sees the glimpse of bright warm light above him,

Seemed bothered, and sad.

His eyes fell in tears, not for the relief or excitement, 

But for the end of the majestic view.