My love is faroff on an island...

My love is faroff, away on an island,

A lovely young girl, lonely and grieving.

The boat is fast, the moon is bright,

Round my neck is a gift for my dear one,

The wind is fair, the sea is calm and yet I feel

That never shall I reach my darling.

In the clear water, in the moaning wind,

Everything hastens in a sense of its own end,

High on his throne, death calls out to me:

“Steer your craft unto my bosom!”

Alas! Many a year I’ve followed that course,

In this craft that will perish with me!

Why must it be that Death calls me,

Before I shall have embraced my dearest?

My love is faroff, away on an island,

When I shall die, she’ll die too, lonely and grieving.

Chairil Anwar
after the French translation of Louis-Charles Damais