Prince of the Sun

O Prince of the Sun

Your face so cold and harsh

Your fangs, a pai of tusks


curving beneath our chin.

Your skin, speckled black

Hair long and greying

To match your flapping silver cloak.

You ride an orange chariot

Pulled by twelve-thousand flying fish

That emerge from the sea

To follow the path of the sun.

And the chariot Stopps

Alongside the crown of Anggereai.

O Prince of the Sun

Step inside

Find your inner being.

Within you

Dwells a selfless soul

That moves restlessly.

Then you will be carried away,

towards the eastern sun.

While waiting there

In the darkness of night

You paint the stars,

counting them one by one.

Where the sun rises

You too will rise.

Then the Prince of the Sun

Leaves his orange chariot

As it passes on

Through the wind’s thousand colors.

All that remains is yellow dust

On the shoulder of the hill.

John Waromi
Translated from the Bahasa Indonesia by Sarita Newson