Vainly

That last time you came

To bring me a bouquet of flowers,

Roses red and jasmine white

As blood and candor,

You spread them out before me,

With a look that said: “It’s for you.”

Then, we looked at each other, banned,

We asked one another: “What’s this?

Love?” Neither of us knew.

All that day we stayed together,

Without however feeling closer to each other.

O my heart that would give naught,

Break then, by your desolation mangled.

February 1943

Chairil Anwar
after the French translation of Louis-Charles Damais