This town still has bikes
small, medium and big
white, blue and black
Chinese and Japanese
fresh, old and broken
decorated and pale.

Every morning I see
wheels on the roads
between rice fields.
No noise they make.
No poison they give.
But peace they have.

Sunday mornings
I see up to the hills,
down to the beach
at every crossroad,
many colorful bikes
bringing fun and joy.

We have bikeshops
exhibiting fresh bikes,
promoting costly bikes,
repairing broken bikes.
Some people ride bikes.
We still love you, bikes.

Yogyakarta, 1 September 2004

Image: www.sindutrans.com