Twilight Poetry at the Leutik Mountain Court

My weapon in the foot of the mountain Leutik ...
The hometown of my place is tugging at the kites in the rice fields ...
From noon to dusk with friends ...
Often going home with feet covered in rice mud, the rest of the marathon is chasing a matchless kite ...

Still remembering when eleven patriots clashed over the round skin ...
A loud shout filled with vomiting curses when the round skin soared as he pleased away from the goalpost ...
I used to be part of eleven patriots ...
Never go home until the Maghrib prayer call reverberates ..
The air is as fresh as perembangwan's flower ᥱ sa ...
I always compare it with the smoke puffs of Mona and Nyi Ayu ...
Ah, save every piece of mist that always hums at dawn and dusk ...



Almost nothing leaves the floor of the earth ..
The next generation of craftsmen who keep on flying kites is still making a lot of noise when the sun slips towards the west.
The next eleven patriots are still trampling on the terrain where I used to run around in the fog to dispel the opponent's counterattack ...
And they still don't go home before the Maghrib prayer call reverberates ..

A nostalgic moment entrenched everywhere ...
So much that I can't knit in my poem ...
I hope everything will remain as beautiful as ever ...
As beautiful as dusk in the Leutik mountain courtyard ...
Gunung Leutik Village, Bandung.

@calmsoul

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