“Ombak di Tepi Pantai” <IND-ENG>
“Ombak di Tepi Pantai”
Dia selalu datang saat senja tiba. Terkadang dia berdiri bersandar di pagar dermaga, memandang laut biru. Terkadang pula dia duduk di tepi dermaga menanti hingga matahari benar terbenam. Hingga bintang mulai bermunculan dan angin terlalu dingin untuk tubuhnya yang ringkih. Lalu barulah dia beranjak pergi, entah kemana. Untuk muncul kembali keesokan harinya.
“Apakah kau menanti seseorang?” Pernah aku memberanikan diri untuk bertanya.
“Aku menanti ombak kembali padaku.” Jawabnya waktu itu.
“Bagaimana mungkin kau menanti ombak? Bukankah ada ombak di hadapanmu?” tanyaku bingung. Laut tengah menunjukkan kemegahannya senja itu. Ombak menggelepar ganas menghantam papan dermaga. Angin menderu kencang, membuat rambut panjang perempuan itu menari bagaikan lidah api. Petir menggelegar nun jauh di tengah laut. Begitu banyak ombak menghempas pantai. Ombak mana yang dia cari?
“Bukan ombak ini yang kunanti. Aku menanti ombak yang kehilangan pantainya.” Dan dia pun duduk di tepian dermaga itu. Tak gentar pada laut liar yang mengamuk hanya beberapa meter di bawahnya. Terkadang ada ombak menjilat nakal kaki mungilnya yang terjuntai di tepi dermaga. Hujan deras basahi tubuhnya. Dia tak peduli. Dia tetap menunggu.
Di dermaga itu dia selalu menunggu.
Melihatnya di atas dermaga adalah pertanda senja telah tiba. Tak ada yang tahu sejak kapan dia menunggu di dermaga. Dia selalu ada di sana. Mentari senja membalut tubuhnya dengan cahaya jingga. Sementara laut tinggalkan jejak garam pada kulitnya. Hingga aroma senja dan laut lekat di tubuhnya.
Dia nyaris tidak pernah berbincang. Hanya datang dan kemudian menunggu di dermaga. Terkadang dia hanya diam hingga waktunya pulang nanti. Terkadang pula ada nyanyian sendu mengalun dari bibirnya. Bercerita tentang sepi dan cinta. Mungkin itu lagu untuk ombaknya yang tak kunjung datang.
“Seperti apakah ombak yang kehilangan pantainya?” tanyaku pada waktu yang lain.
“Seperti orang tersesat.” Lirih jawabnya.
“Bagaimana kau mengenalinya? Bukankah semua ombak terlihat sama?” Kupandangi buih-buih putih di tepian pantai, sisa dari ombak memecah pantai. Debur ombak menabrak tiang dermaga terdengar begitu keras. Datang begitu cepat menyapa pantai, dan kemudian menghilang kembali, untuk digantikan ombak yang lain.
“Ombak yang kehilangan pantai akan memanggilku.” Dan dia pun menanti panggilan dari ombak miliknya. Tak peduli akan desau angin sore yang hendak memikatnya pergi. Dia bertahan di sana, di dermaga. Memperhatikan ombak yang datang silih berganti. Mencari ombak yang akan memanggil namanya.
Di tepi dermaga itu dia selalu menunggu.
Tak peduli entah berapa ratus senja yang ia habiskan. Hingga putih menyemarakkan hitam rambutnya. Bibirnya masih merekahkan senyum, dengan gurat halus di tepian. Mata sayu dan penuh rindu berkepanjangan masih saja memandang laut. Kulitnya tak lagi halus, termakan oleh tahun yang dia lewati untuk menunggu. Hanya gaun pantainya yang masih tetap sama, merah semerah matahari senja.
Aku kini terbiasa menemaninya duduk di tepi dermaga. Berbincang akan laut dan senja. Terkadang dia bercerita mengenai ombak yang pernah datang ke pantainya. Terkadang pula aku bercerita mengenai senja jauh dari tepi laut. Nyanyiannya masih diliputi lara. Harap yang kunjung usai akan kedatangan sang ombak.
“Sampai kapan kau akan menunggu ombakmu?” tanyaku pada satu saat ketika senja mulai memudar.
“Ombakku pasti datang. Jika tidak, aku yang akan mencarinya.”jawabnya dengan mantap.
“Bagaimana kau bisa tetap bertahan? Bukankah berharap itu melelahkan?” Harap akan hatinya mampu berpaling padaku bagaikan menunggu ombak miliknya yang tak kunjung datang. Di mata beningnya yang sayu tak pernah kutemukan celah untuk ombak yang lain. Matanya hanya mencari ombak yang tidak memiliki pantai.
“Tanpa ada harapan, tidak akan ada kehidupan. “ dan dia pun terus berharap ombak itu akan datang suatu senja nanti. Ombak yang membawa serta harapanku untuk berlabuh di pantainya.
Di tepi dermaga itu dia selalu menunggu.
Tapi senja ini dia tak datang. Pun senja-senja selanjutnya. Ombak masih memecah pantai. Mentari senja masih memandikan laut dengan cahaya jingga. Tapi tak ada perempuan beraroma senja dan laut di tepian dermaga. Mungkinkah dia sudah bertemu dengan ombak yang dicarinya? Ataukah dia memutuskan terjun ke laut untuk mencarinya?
Aku berdiri di sana, di tepian dermaga. Menunggu perempuan yang menjadi pantaiku untuk kembali.
"Waves on the Seaside"
He always comes at dusk. Sometimes he stood leaning against the wharf, looking out at the blue sea. Sometimes he sat on the edge of the pier waiting for the sun to set. Until the star began to appear and the wind was too cold for its frail body. Then he left, somewhere. To reappear the next day.
"Are you waiting for someone?" I once dared to ask.
"I'm waiting for the waves to return to me." He replied.
"How could you wait for the waves? Is not there a wave in front of you? "I asked confused. The middle sea shows its splendor of dusk. The ferocious flounder wave hit the dock board. The wind roared, making her long hair dance like a flame. Lightning thundered away in the middle of the sea. So many waves crashing the shore. Which wave is he looking for?
"It's not the waves are the same. I'm looking forward to the waves that lost the beach. "And he sat down on the edge of the pier. Undaunted at the wild sea raging just a few feet below. Sometimes there was a wicked little lapping wicket that dangled at the edge of the pier. Heavy rain wet his body. He does not care. He's still waiting.
At the dock he was always waiting.
Seeing him on the dock is a sign of the twilight has arrived. No one knows since when he waited on the dock. He's always there. Sunset twilight bandage with orange light. While the sea leave a trace of salt on the skin. Until the scent of dusk and the sea closely to his body.
He hardly ever talked. Just come and then wait on the dock. Sometimes he just stays quiet until the time comes home later. Sometimes there is also a sad song from his lips. Telling about loneliness and love. Maybe it was a song for the waves that never came.
"What does the waves lose from the beach?" I asked at another time.
"Like a lost person." He answered softly.
"How do you recognize him? Are not all the waves looking the same? "I looked at the white foam on the shoreline, the rest of the waves breaking the shore. The waves crashing against the dock pole sounded so loud. Come so quickly to the beach, and then disappear again, to be replaced by the other waves.
"The waves losing the beach will call me." And he waited for the call from his waves. Did not care about the afternoon breeze that was about to lure her away. He stays there, on the dock. Watching the waves come and go. Looking for the waves that will call his name.
At the edge of the pier he always waited.
No matter how many hundreds of twilight he spent. Up to white graced the black hair. Her lips still smile, with fine lines on the edge. Eyes longing and longing for prolonged still looking at the sea. Her skin was no longer soft, consumed by the year she passed to wait. Only her beach dress remained the same, red as red as the evening sun.
I am now accustomed to accompany him sitting on the edge of the pier. Talking about the sea and the twilight. Sometimes he told me about the waves that had come to his shores. Sometimes I also tell you about the twilight away from the shore. The singing is still overwhelmed. Hope that the visit after the arrival of the wave.
"How long will you wait for your waves?" I asked at one point as the twilight began to fade.
"My waves are coming. If not, I will look for it. "He replied firmly.
"How can you survive? Do not you expect it to be tiring? "Please, his heart can turn to me as it waits for his waves that never come. In his clear, uneasy eyes I never found a gap for the other waves. His eyes are only looking for waves that do not have a beach.
"Without hope, there will be no life. "And he kept hoping the waves would come a dusk later. Waves bringing my hopes for anchoring in its shores.
At the edge of the pier he always waited.
But this evening he did not come. Even the next twilight. The waves are still breaking the beach. Dusk still bathe the sea with orange light. But no woman scented the twilight and the sea at the edge of the dock. Could he have met the waves he was looking for? Or did he decide to jump into the sea to look for him?
I stood there, at the edge of the dock. Waiting for women to be my fist to go back.