Unsent Letter | Surat yang Tak Jadi Dikirim

Ia linglung. Mungkin akan melepaskan penyesalannya seperti yang telah dibayangkan semula. Ia kembali melihat surat itu. Lantas mulai lagi menulis ulang karena ada beberapa kata yang salah. Atau, menulis ulang kembali karena beberapa kalimatnya yang harus diubah. Atau, kata-kata metaforis; apakah perlu dilebihkan, apakah perlu dikecilkan - hiperbola, litotes. Ah, sama saja. Seandainya ia punya komputer sendiri. Menulis sepucuk surat tentu tak akan butuh waktu selama ini.

Kepada Kinanti,
Kutulis surat ini kala hujan gerimis . Angin menggeraikan keindahan-keindahan yang bersukacita saat mata kita menjadi jembatan. Kesulitan yang pernah teralami sekarang sejenak musnah. Pelita berpijar seolah-olah awan yang berseliweran di langit-langit tanpa batas. Kinanti, aku cinta padamu.

Penat seharian ini telah ditumpahkan ke dalam ember. Di sana penat itu tersenyum-senyum bersama bau tengik keringat. Ia menyapa air yang dikeluarkan secara gatal oleh sanyo; hei… tahukah kalian. Cinta itu ibarat buah tomat yang matang dan berwarna meriah semeriah api ketika menyala-nyala. Sungguh aku ingin mencintai suatu masa. Tentu tuhan akan mendengar suara hamba.

Air pun tersenyum. Ia telah melakoni hidup ribuan musim di ceruk bumi. Lalu ia pun menjawab; benarkah penat. Tidakkah kau tahu bahwa cintalah yang menjadikan kehidupan mulia sepanjang masa. Tidakkah kau tahu bahwa cintalah ihwal teramat gezah untuk diutarakan. Sudahlah dan terima kasih. Pikirkanlah tentang cinta itu.

Kinanti, jika kau dengar itu matahari terbenam bagiku tidak segemulai dirimu. Tari-tarian yang ditarikan para bidadari dari negeri di atas awan tidak segemulai dirimu. Kau bagiku seperti lindapnya cahaya bukit Tursina ketika Tuhan bicara dengan Nabi Musa.

Tapi mengapa, Kinanti. Lekas sudah kita saling sapa. Aku terkadang teringat apa kata Iman Al Ghazali; nikmat cinta hanya sekejap terasa, tetapi luka karena cinta selamanya akan terasa. Apakah aku harus mencintaimu setengah hati? Tidak. Aku tidak akan mencintaimu dengan perasaan setengah-setengah. Aku ingin mencintaimu dengan sepenuh hati sepenuh jiwa.

Ia berhenti menulis. Membaca kata demi kata dengan perlahan. Nada surat itu menurutnya terlalu merendah-rendahkan diri. Ia laki-lakai. Ia tak akan pernah memberi hati seempuk itu pada perempuan sekalipun ia secantik isteri fir’un; Cleopatra. Karena perempuan sesungguhnya perusak. Tercatat dalam sejarah bagaimana kekaisaran-kekaisaran besar kehilangan daya karena wanita. Wanita memang racun dunia. Lihatlah Julius Caesar di Romawi. Dan banyak kekuasaan-kekuasaan lain namun di bawah pengaruh perempuan semuanya hancur lebur. Di masa kita persis seperti Oom Clinton.

Kinanti yang Baik,
Kau lihat. Bagaimana negeri kita ini selalu risau. Sebabnya karena paham materialistik telah begitu menghunjam di jantung hati tiap-tiap kita. Sehingga ketika hidup seperti sekarang ini. Kita lupa bagaimana hidup di masa itu penuh darah di depan mata kita.

Ia lagi-lagi berhenti menulis. Ia membatin; tulisan ini macam teks proklamasi ‘45.

He was dazed. Maybe he will let go of his regrets just as he had imagined. He looked back at the letter. Then I started rewriting it again because there were a few wrong words. Or, rewrite it because some of the sentences need to be changed. Or, metaphorical words; Should it be exaggerated, should it be minimized - hyperbole, litotes. Ah, it's the same. If only he had his own computer. Writing a letter certainly won't take this long.

Dear Kinanti,
I wrote this letter when it was drizzling. The wind stirs the beauties that rejoice when our eyes become a bridge. The hardships that had been experienced now were momentarily gone. The lamp glowed as if the clouds were hanging on the ceiling without limit. Kinanti, I love you.

This day's fatigue has been poured into the bucket. There the tired smiles with the rancid smell of sweat. He greeted the water that sanyo itchy emitted; hey ... do you know. Love is like a ripe tomato and is as bright as a fire when it burns. I really want to love a time. Of course God will hear my voice.
The water smiled. He has lived thousands of seasons in the earth's niche. Then he answered; really tired. Don't you know that it is love that makes life glorious for all time. Don't you know that love is too much to say. Never mind and thank you. Think about that love.

Kinanti, if you hear that the sun has set for me not as easy as you. The dances that are danced by the angels from the land above the clouds are not as original as you. You are to me like the light of the hill of Tursina when God spoke to the Prophet Musa.
But why, Kinanti. Soon we greet each other. I sometimes remember what Iman Al Ghazali said; the joy of love is only felt for a moment, but the wounds of love will forever be felt. Should I love you half-heartedly? Not. I will not love you half-heartedly. I want to love you with all my heart with all my soul.

He stopped writing. Read slowly word for word. The tone of the letter, according to him, was too condescending. He is male. He will never give such a soft heart to a woman even though she is as beautiful as fir'un's wife; Cleopatra. Because women are destroyers. It is recorded in history how the great empires lost their power because of women. Women are poisons of the world. Look at Julius Caesar in Rome. And many other powers but under the influence of women are all destroyed. In our time it is just like Uncle Clinton.

Good Kinanti,
You see. How our country is always worried. The reason is because materialistic understanding has penetrated the heart of each of us. So that when life is like now. We forget how life in those days is full of blood before our eyes.

Again he stopped writing. He thought; this writing kind of text of the proclamation '45.