Song for whistling, I

All the flying ants die,

Burned up in the light of the lamp.

I shall find my own

Ending, dazzled by the gleam of your eyes.

How is it this body, always on watch,

Should be enflamed by the fire of your eyes?

I pretend to know nothing about it.

Chairil Anwar
after the French translation of Louis-Charles Damais