Chrysogonus' Translation #87 - from Rachael Mead's "The photographer and the wrong art"

Fotografer dan karya yang salah

Aku melihat mereka tiap pagi, katanya.

Mereka menunggu di luar pintu kaca

tanpa bertemu pandang

garis kasar yang mengular

kumal dalam raga

saat pukul 10 pagi menjelang.

Mereka mengingatkanku akan sapi, katanya

peternakan di mana aku tumbuh.

Saat fajar mereka merajai padang

berkilap surya dan rumput hijau

tersebar dalam baris liar

menunggu giliran bertemu mesin.

Tapi aku tak bisa menggambarkannya, katanya

aku tidak bisa menunjukkan kekerumunan mereka

dalam citra. Ia menggelengkan kepalanya,

tak puas akan kegagalannya,

kecepatan rana dan bukaan

decak cepat di benaknya.

aku meraih penaku .

The photographer and the wrong art

State Library of South Australia

I see them every morning, she said.

They wait outside the glass doors

no-one meeting eyes

a ragged line that shuffles

into a clot of bodies

as 10am ticks closer.

They remind me so much of cows, she said

on the dairy where I grew up.

At dusk they’d stroll out of the paddock

dazed with  sunshine and meadow grass

and shamble into loose formation,

waiting their turn at the machines.

But I just can’t capture it, she said.

I can’t find a way to show their herdness

in an image. She shook her head,

non-plussed at this wilful failure,

shutter speeds and apertures

clicking briskly in her mind.

I pick up my pen.