poems by zurinah hassan

2010-05-23T00:21:00.000-07:00

Another poem from my collection FACING THE HARBOUR. I hope someone like it and translate it to another language. Hope to hear from anyone out there.

The Frying Pan

A frying pan in the kitchen
Of the house where I was born
Was my mum’s best friend
All day long

The frying pan
And something being fried
The children with appetite
Was mum’s source of delight

The frying pan
Days and nights
On the fire
We did not count the years

The mother who cared for the frying pan
Hugged us lovingly
Did we ever look and realize
There were dust in her eyes
Feel her skin scraped by hot fries
Her hands darken by smokes
Her forehead touched by the heat
We were too sleepy after heavy meals
To hear her coughing, her rough breathing
Her painful chest being scratched
By smokes and ashes

We were not aware
And my mum did not care
She only know the joy
Of making us happy
Eating with appetite
And nothing pleased her more
Than to see us satisfied

That’s what happened years after years
The frying pan fulfilled its duty
Until we were grown up and live in the city

2
And now in my modern kitchen
There is no ugly black saucepan
Whenever I have the time to spare
And that is very rare
I cook for my children
In my non stick stainless pan
Shining and expensive
And after meal I wash it
Carefully almost like bathing a baby
With special soft detergent
Following every instruction
One day my mum came to stay
As usual made her self useful
Cook and serve my family
Her grandchildren enjoyed her cooking
And my mum was very happy

After the meal
She helped me tidied my kitchen
And as she used to do
To her frying pan
Scrubbed my expensive utensil
With a bristle brush
At once I cried
“You’ve ruined my saucepan
Do you know how much it cost?”

My mum looked very hurt
There were a few tears
I must have looked quite fierce

And now my mum had returned to her Lord
Leaving me in deep remorse
Regretting the way I priced a cooking utensil
Much more than a mother’s love

My mum is no longer here
Hang lonely on the wall of our old kitchen
Is the frying pan in her life
Can we give it a price?

2010-04-07T08:39:00.000-07:00

My new book published by ITNM (Malaysian Institute of Translation). There are 48 poems originally written in Malay and translated into English by the poet. I hope it can reach out somebody out there somewhere.

THE VOYAGE OF HANG LI PO (THE POEM PUBLISHED IN FACING THE HARBOUR

2010-04-02T18:39:00.000-07:00

The Voyage of Hang Li Po
Hang Li Po was the legendry Chinese princess, sent as a bride to the ruler of Melaka
The marriage was a mission to strengthen the newly founded kingdom.

The beautiful Princess Hang Li Po
In the voyage to Melaka
Crying in agony
So young and so tender
To be torn from her mother
Like a shoot from its root
She’d rather die
Drowned by the ocean
Then to bear this separation

Is this her fate her destiny
To be delivered as a gift, a commodity
Shipped to Melaka
As a bride and a donation
To strengthen a nation

Her mother, Her Majesty the Maharani
Had spoken in tears,
My beloved Hang Li Po, please be brave
This fact we have to face
You and me what we are born to be
As queens and princesses
We do not own ourselves
Marriage for us is not a personal decision
It is a state arrangement, a political mission

Do not cry for your father
He is a man, and a king
He loves you as a daughter
But his kingdom is everything
He laughs and cry for the nation
The kingdom demands his attention
First the reign over his land
Family happiness come second

Yes my princess
Look, what history has written
Of empires and nations
Built and strengthened
At the sacrifice and tears of women
While many brought to the end
By misdeed and greed of men

FACING THE HARBOUR

2010-02-09T04:51:00.000-08:00

A collection of poems entittled FACING THA HARBOUR will be out soon, published by Malaysian Institute of Translation, Kuala Lumpur.

Facing the Harbour

It disturbs me
Every time I face the harbour lights
They are the lights of our boundary
Reminding us nobody can live without a name
And loyalty to a country

But nobody can choose his own name
Or the country to be born in

Menghadap ke Pelabuhan

Alangkah sukarnya berdepan
Dengan lampu-lampu pelabuhan
Lampu-lampu sempadan yang mengingatkan
Hidup ini mustahil tanpa nama
Dan kesetiaan kepada negara

Tapi tak siapa memilih namanya sendiri
Dan tempat untuk dilahirkan

GURINDAM- PULANG KE NEGERI ABADI

2010-02-08T06:27:00.000-08:00

Pulang ke negeri abadi

Apabila dunia hanyalah sementara
Semua manusia adalah pengembara

Apabila dunia hanya pinjaman
Tidak terjamin kekal berzaman

Apabila hidup tidak beriman
Sesatlah kita tanpa pedoman

Apabila kita di jalan pulang
Jaga bahtera menempuh gelombang

Apabila bahtera dibiar hanyut
Karam tenggelam di tengah laut

Apabila tiada iman yang teguh
Ibarat berjalan tidak bersuluh

Apabila tidak cukup bekalan
Bahtera tidak sampai pengkalan

Apabila sempurna amal ibadat
Di negeri akhirat beroleh syafaat

Iman dan akal jadi kemudi
Selamat lah pulang ke negeri abadi

Pelihara diri dari maksiat
Beroleh lindungan di negeri akhirat

Hidup berpandu iman dan akal
Beruntunglah kita di negeri yang kekal

Apabila hidup bersuluhkan akal
Beruntunglah kita di negeri yang kekal

THE WORLD IS A SHOPPING MALL

2009-06-05T04:08:00.000-07:00

The World is a Shopping Mall

Shakespeare had said
All the world’s a stage
Men are merely actors
With many roles and many parts

In the hand of Beckett
The actors become slaves
Imprisoned on the stage
In a scene of waiting
In a play without ending

Today what if we say
That the world is a big market
We are traders or buyers without exception
Uttering the dialog of business transaction

This is a shopping mall for all
Also a display hall
With cunning promoters
Catching the social conscious
Who go on searching
And shopping for status

Whether this is a Shakespearean stage
Actors with many roles
And many faces
Or in the play by Beckett
The act of waiting on the set
We are no different from them
We’re being directed by materialism

Dunia Sebuah Pasar Raya

Kata Shakespeare
Dunia adalah sebuah pentas
Manusia hanyalah pelakon
Dengan pelbagai peranannya

Di tangan Beckett
Manusia adalah pelakon
Yang terperangkap di pentasnya
Di dalam satu babak penantian
Yang tidak ada kesudahan

Hari ini bagaimana kalau kita berkata
Dunia adalah sebuah pasar raya
Manusia menjadi pembeli dan penjual
Berdialogkan transisi urus niaga

Ini adalah medan berjual beli
Ini juga gedung peragaan
Si mahir menebar iklan
Menjala si egois
Yang tidak putus-putus
Membeli status

Adakah ini pentas Shakespeare
Pelakon dengan pelbagai peranan
Harus pandai bermuka-muka
Atau seperti pentas Beckett
Yang memerangkap di babak penantian
Apakah bezanya
Kita yang diarah oleh kebendaan

ZURINAH HASSAN

FACING THE HARBOUR

2009-05-29T19:03:00.000-07:00

Facing the Harbour

It disturbs me
Every time I face the harbour lights
They are the lights of our boundary
Reminding us nobody can live without a name
And loyalty to a country

But nobody can choose his own name
Or the country to be born in

IKLAN TV

Suatu hari pada tahun 1966
ayah membawa pulang
sebuah peti televisyen
kami bersorak riang
lalu sibuk menyusun ruang
untuk memberikan padanya
sudut yang utama

Mulai hari itu
kami mengatur kerja harian
kami melentur kebiasaan
mengikut jadual tayangan

Tetapi sebenarnya
peti itulah yang mengatur acara keluarga
mempertemukan kami
dengan tetamu pelbagai rupa

Dari Kentucky
mereka datang menghidang makanan segera
lalu menakluk selera bangsa

Dari Marlboro Country
mereka menunggang kuda
ke dalam minda anak-anak muda

Dari kota London
kilauan emas pemetik api
menyalakan seribu fantasi
sambil mengusap dada
dengan asap dan jelaga

Dari Paris semestinya
mereka memperagakan kehebatan jenama
lalu memakaikan anak-anak kami
dengan baju ilusi

Ketika kami cuba melindungi putera puteri
di dalam pagar kesantunan
mereka menjerit "breakaway"
lupakan segala batasan

Kadang-kadang kami marah
kerana terlalu banyak iklan
memecah keasyikan
perlahan-lahan kami fahami juga
kuasanya mencorakkan rancangan
dan menyusun jadual tayangan
yang kemudian mempengaruhi
agenda kehidupan.

Biasanya kami leka
ketika wajah negara
dan watak bangsa
diadun oleh tangan sang penaja

TV commercials

One day in 1966
My father brought home
A television set
How we cheered with joy
Immediately rearranged our space
To give it
A prominent place

That day was the beginning
Of our daily routine
Following the program summary
And setting our time accordingly

In fact the box has come to control
The timetable of our household
Bringing to us guests
From all over the world

From Kentucky
They serve food in an instant
Conquering the taste bud of our nation

From Marlboro country
The horses gallop
Into the minds of our young ones

From London city
The gold lighter
Sparks off a thousand fantasies
Filling our chests
With fog and smoke

Form Paris for certain
The parade of brands and fashion
Dress up our children
With clothes of illusions

While we protect our boys and girls
With ethics and morals
They shouted ‘breakaway’
Lets break all the rules

Sometimes we are annoyed
By too much interruptions
disrupting our concentration
But we come to understand
The sponsors right
To schedule our viewing
And we come to compromise
As it dictates our live

More often we are carried away
While the characters of our people
And the landscape of our land
Being shaped by advertisers’ hand

Life from a train window

Life, is it what I see outside a train
Moving fast on its railing
the ever changing faces
the ever changing scenes

Oh self, are you that great mountain
Standing indifferent and proud
to the caressing wind
to the approaching clouds
or are you just that wild grass
condemned, but thrived
hated, yet survived

Are you that rushing torrent
Flowing down in violence.
Bitter and puzzled by the jungle
Only to fall down as bubbles
Laughing at itself amidst the pebbles

Are you that old river slow and calm
Surrendering services to fields and farms
Following turns and meanders loyally
With heart heavy and gloomy

The rain that fall suddenly
Obstruct all views from this train
Telling us we are all lonely
Each on his own journey
Meeting and departing
Happen without any warning

Searching for myself outside a moving train
Among strange faces
And ever changing colors
Before I could make up a vision
The train pulls on its alien coaches
To another station

2009-05-21T06:05:00.000-07:00

Looking For Space

Suddenly he got up and switched off the light
Saying, “This room is bigger in the dark
Since we cannot see the walls”

I switched on the lights again
Saying “This light is actually the space
And we are more often imprisoned
By the walls that we cannot see”

Marriage
- one woman’s opinion

Marriage
is the difficulty
of changing routine and priorities
That make you less yourself
And a woman
Has to be less herself
In order to be more a woman

Marriage to a woman
Is a protection
For her who cannot afford the high price
And the high risk
Of living with her own identity

Marriage to a woman
Is a protection
For her who dare not live
In her own identity
It is too costly and too risky

BUKIT NANAS OH BUKIT NANAS

2009-04-18T06:06:00.000-07:00

Cerita peperangan tidak pernah menggembirakan. Hari ini saya terharu dan terganggu. Betapa sedihnya mendengar cerita peperangan di Bukit Nanas yang dikisahkan oleh Encik Siri Ning Buah. Pengkisahan ini dianjurkan oleh Persatuan Sejarah Selangor dan telah berlangsung di Kompleks Kebudayaan, Shah Alam.

Begitulah nasib orang-orang Melayu Mandaling yang telah berada di Kuala Lumpur pada tahun 1873. Mereka diserang oleh tentera British, Cina, Bugis, Kedah, Melayu Batu Bara dan Rembau yang dipimpin oleh Tengku Kudin, dan Yap Ah Loy. Penyerang-penyerang telah membedil dan membunuh lalu menghanguskan bumi Kuala Lumpur.

Di Bukit Nanas itulah penduduk-penduduk yang masih ada di sekitarnya mencari perlindungan. Mereka bertahan dan melawan dengan berani. Namun akhirnya hancurlah pertahanan mereka. Mereka dikepung, saluran air minuman dibedil dan pelbagai lagi rupa kekejaman. Orang tua, kanak-kanak yang tidak berdaya telah mati kebuluran.

Bukit Nanas oh Bukit Nanas
Maafkan aku
kau menyimpan luka bangsa
yang selama ini aku kurang tahu

selama ini kisah ini kurang didedahkan. Sejak kecil saya hanya diajar tentang Yap Ah Loy yang digelar "the founder of Kuala Lumpur".

THE LITTLE ANTS

2009-04-17T01:15:00.000-07:00

I drop a little honey on the ground
a few ants get around
a few minutes later
more ants gather
and in no time
hundreds of ants
are walking in a line

I watch and wondered how
without voice and without sound
they must have passed the words around
whenever food is found
this fact I have read
that animals communicate

I watched and was carried away
until I heard what an ant has to say
'like men we communicate
tell each other as we pass by
but unlike men
we cannot tell a lie"

It says
'In animal world there is communication
but only men can tell untrue stories
animals don't have such talent"