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10 Examples of Abdul Hadi WM . Poems

Abdul Hadi WM and Examples of His Poetry- Abdul Hadi WM or whose full name is Abdul Hadi Widji Muthahari is an Indonesian writer, humanist and philosopher. He is known for his Sufistic-inspired works, his researches in the field of Nusantara Malay literature and his views on Islam and pluralism.

Abdul Hadi is a descendant of Chinese merchants who migrated and settled in Sumenep. His father, K. Abu Muthar, was a German merchant and teacher. While his mother, R. A. Martiya is the daughter of the palace of Solo. The eldest of four children, he has been familiar with heavy reading by thinkers such as Plato, Socrates, Imam Ghazali, Rabindranath Tagore, and Muhammad Iqbal since he was a child.

Meanwhile, Hadi's involvement in journalism has been shown since his college days. He is the editor of several magazines, such as Gema UGM Students, Indonesian Students, and others. The man, who was educated in Iowa, Germany, and Malaysia, likes to write about loneliness, death, and time. Over time, his works are increasingly colored by Islamic Sufism. Although people often compare Hadi's writings with his best friend, Taufiq Ismail, he admits that he invites people to experience the religious experience he feels, while Taufiq only emphasizes his morality side.

This connoisseur of Bach, Beethoven, and The Beatles also founded a pesantren in his hometown in 1990 with his friends, Zawawi Imron and Ahmad Fudholi Zaini. The name of the pesantren is "An-Naba Islamic Boarding School", which consists of a mosque, dormitory, and art studio where students are taught literature, fine arts (including sculpting and sculpting), design, calligraphy, carving, ceramics, music, sound art, and art. drama.

The recipient of the 2010 Cultural Satyalancana award from President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono is married to journalist and painter Tedjawati Koentjoro and has three daughters. Now he is actively teaching at several well-known universities in Jakarta.

The following literary works that Abdul Hadi wrote in the form of poetry that you can see.

God, We Are So Close

We are so close
As fire with heat
I'm hot in your fire

We are so close
Like cloth with cotton
I'm cotton in your cloth

We are so close
Like the wind with its direction
We are so close
In the dark
Now I'm on
On your extinguished light

Song in the Rain

Sweet and melodious
Rain sound
Shake the trees
Receiving scatter
Bird's wings

Sweet and melodious
Like rotting tree roots
Echoing and refreshing
As if rotten leaves of gladiolus
Singing in the blue rainbow
Bypass the weather

Sweet and melodious
Moving fate
Fighting soul
Receiving gusts
Word wings

Yes, it's like the sweet sound of rain
Which has become a habit of nature
Move or churn and rise
Change and move in a colorful glow
Passing and passing in the cold and the heat

Sweet and melodious
The melodious one that never gets bored
Rolling and never coming back
It's like burning fire


Proverbs of a Cat

Always can't see you clearly
Even though I'm not nearsighted and you're not veiled
It's just that everything has to be justified as before:
Appetite, hand gestures, conversational style, chair shadows
Even the steps of life leading to death

Let my words and what is said
meet like two mouths kissing
And like a cat stalking its prey in a tree branch
Wanting a spy bird is not just a figure of speech


La Condition Humaine

In the forest of my ancestors
I'm just a mango tree
-- no fruit no leaves --
My father said, "The land you grew up in
It's not fertile, son!" while eating
the fruits of my grandfather's tree voraciously

And sometimes at night
without my wife knowing
I also steal and eat fruit
from my unripe child's tree


Late Night, Summer Hamburg

Sleeping sea. Wet sky
As if in a pool of clouds swimming
Who sings the drizzle tonight
And the wind still blows, even though it's alone

And we are almost a long way to go:
We don't know where to go tonight
Or maybe just our two pairs of shoes
Rushing in the fog, my hat is complaining
Then fall

Or words that never
as free as body

When the horizonis stretched out
again and we seemto arrive, we forget
The drizzle stopped between the rumbling anchors
In our room we hug like two houses that are about to fall



ladies and gentlemen, I want your warm taste
Feel the light, don't fly to
the flowers, but to the sea
turn into flowers on the reef

ladies and gentlemen, I want your warm taste
in your hair the cold rays of the sun
sometimes cloudingthe eyes, sometimes the
mind overflows withsnow and dense forest


Early Spring

I want to wake up early, see the white dawn
breaking the closed shells --
Before going to sleep I carve the tired moonlight
who slipped in the last bush of snow
soothing lullabies,I carved them
before the sun setthe glass glittering

But between dark and light, there is and is not
Time always overflows the lonely sky with fog first
then the wind slowly and noisily emits the morning
-- these hey birds, it's winter drifting
still eternal like yesterday's pitiful
must eat hundreds of my past


Maybe you shouldn't run away, interrupt
your shadow
who stay away and
avoid the bright lights
He always stays away
avoid the bright lights

He's always pacing
looking for shapes and names
that never existed


Death and Time

Death says: Indeed, I was the one who tricked you to go wandering until you didn't remember your house
through deserts and valleys in and out of the empty spaces of the universe looking for sound
The melodious Prophet David that I have hidden for centuries

No, answer time, I was the one who tricked you from the first day I ordered Qabi to persuade you
give delicious bait that never fills you until you are tempted to want more and
want to be restless from time to time looking for the life of Abel who you think is mortal
wanders to the corners of the world like poor Quiz Don


I Give

I gave you a hair for memory but
you want to take allmy hair off my head
It's summer or even themiddle of summer your
steps come and gobetween heavy hour beats

Why is the trail always loud before it arrives
the dry leaves on the tree want to bang
into the rushing waterof the sewers your steps
steps come and gobetween heavy hour beats

I gave you a piece ofmy finger for you to burn
but you want to take mywhole hand from my arm
It's the season or the end of summer I don't know
The birds convulse in the hot air as if I'm tired of you

So I make tomorrow my home
But it's not until today that I feel like meeting