On the street of the center city
The mechanical mouse had been killed
Her heart was broken by police's bullet
The men having a head of wild boar
But her mouth' spittle the fragrance of farmers' sweat
The people flowing love more
As clear as river's water under green hill
To the farms burnt by the dry season' sun
The mechanical mouse had been dead
No ceremony, flower, candle, prayer, tear
And terrible news written by news papers
Cause the death had been a common case
In this country known well
As God's empire. But
It would be recorded in the books of poetry
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
