Родилась 27 ноября 1933 года в провинции Западная Ява.
Изучала медицину и психологию в Индонезийском университете. Ее диплом по психологии посвящен Симоне де Бовуар. Продолжила образование в Лейденском университете, Нидерланды, где получила степень по философии, затем в Индонезийском университете защитила докторскую.
Занимается активной преподавательской деятельностью - преподавала на факультете психологии в Университете «Паджаджаран», в нем же основала кафедру философии.
Тути Херати основала феминистский журнал "Jurnal Perempuan" а также сотрудничает с НГО Suara Ibu Peduli, задача которой - эмпауэрмент женщин.
Пишет она на индонезийском языке. Некоторые ее стихотворения переводились на английский
Небольшая подборка на poetrytranslation.org
(* "Everything is in flux", Heraclitus)
it's always the same!!
we talk of this and that
while waiting for the opportunity
once started there's no stopping
the recesses of the heart, a lake, a pool
a cave and an ocean
pouring forth, flowing, flowing
- panta rei -
please stop, freeze the action
let's just have that moment again
for a little
"picked flowers quickly fade"
(he who holds one)
should be grateful in all things
for fate decides all
fate? the world divided and
holy incense surrounding all
in ritual, forever?
a smile in her glance, being
helpless, hauled by the wrist
lovingly into the garden of life
her heart full of wonder at this creature
a man, almost a god!
"a holy bond between two
as the deceitful gestures that develop
bud, thorn, laughter, mourning
- the garden of life...
New Year's celebrations
who is masked?
among fire-crackers, sky-rockets
the noisy, menacing night
joyful leaping, ecstatic screaming
is this sane and right?
they being happy, I
happiness, come with me
if silently the others too
think the same
Dark moments of meeting
dark moments of meeting
in the lap of silence
razor's edge to be surpassed
lonely space to signify
recurrence of creation day
no, this is
not a meeting
pathos trembling, withdrawing from witnesses,
man surrendering to his single arrogance
secretly enjoying, caressing fingers,
from the well of life
I have three loves
I have three loves, like a child
counting on its fingers
I'll recite them one by one:
the first is serious
his heart is dee, so as to bury desire
his love is wistful - or is it merely pitying
me because of my playful tenderness?
I want to dive down and dissolve
in his lonesome look
his sad love and his sorrowfulness but
how much more easily he is deceived
than the other
whose clever philosophy and
endless patience nver
will I let out of sight
"mind his easy words"
people say, but why
should I worry
"his well aimed phrases"
but he'll go away, finally,
after the taste of his lips
and there'll be the usual nothing again
he doesn't care that much anyway
Should I mention the thir, rather
than be secretive now, for
he comes at night when the door's hinges are oiled
his voice is virile, his look is forceful
hauling me to that secluded heaven
but then I'll be counting the days again
for each month to come, yet
I know I shouldn't worry, but where
and when will I meet my three loves
in the one man?
some time one must leave
- the fire of love's adventure faded -
shadows in a dream, we smile now
at the several events
gone like scattered smoke among the clouds
several names, several beds
some ink spilt and thrown away
- why not -
brush the dust from a book, discover
almost vanished marks
a game free from tension
that this world is reality is a discovery!
that it is reality is amazing!
discovery and amazement incarnate in
a worn ball and a favourity teddy-bear
red shoes with the toes worn off
this world is reality
in a moment the children will be home from their party
the marvellous clouds
pass by the moon long accustomed
to this: - loneliness -
capturing the glances
gathered in the net of the bright night
glances satiated with empty thirst
moon, when the night is silent
and man gone, for whom
is the juice of your yellow sugar body
crushed in the caress of the clouds
the clouds begin to part, you are caught
in the branches, trembling, and sink
taken by a fisherman with the white
fish in his net
the beach is empty, he is going
quickly, all is gone
oh - the moon, with a friendly gesture
he lifts the still floundering thing