I saw a white tiger laying on the street of Braga;
May be it’s just a dream;
He saw through my eyes, through the flesh;
Through my heart, through my soul.

I saw the tiger drank water from Cikapundung river;
May be it’s just a dream;
He chased over flying ducks with green-necks nearby;
Happily swimming, catching gurami, like a cat.

I saw the tiger traveled from Bypass to Dago;
May be it’s just a dream;
It took him less than forty five minutes long;
Like a wind he ran, arrived on time.

I saw the white tiger chilled on Tegallega Park;
May be it’s just a dream;
It shivered, probably because of the cold – who knows?
Or because of butterflies perched on his nose?

I saw the tiger playing hide and seek with Garuda;
May be it’s just a dream;
Not only great birds, crocodiles, whales, and sheeps;
They were looking for nice food here, it seems.

I saw the white tiger staying under bushes of Bougenville;
He crossed his legs and stayed there idly, looking at the mountain;
He began to close his bright blue eyes and slept soundly.
Then I know it is I who dream of him.

— Bandung, 2014
A little dream for Parahyangan

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