Pagbúhay kan Lengwáhe

Kadaklán na beses, kun saén an saróng lengwahe nagngángarongátong mawará o magadán, dakúl an puwédeng gibóhon tangáning buháyon iní.


Kun maaráman nanggád kan saróng komunidád na tibáad magadán an lengwahe nindá, magíbo sindá nin mga paági pára buháyon o padagúson pa iní.


Kaipúhan na mísmong an komunidád an mámuyang magsalbár kan saindáng sadíring lengwáhe. Mas oróg na makabuluhán kun paháhalagahán sa mísmong mga gawégawé o kultura kan mga táwong iní an lengwáheng ginagámit kan dikit sa saindá, o an ináapod na minoríya.
 

Kaipúhan man na gástusan an mga gigibóhon na iní— puwédeng magmukná nin mga kurso o maggámit nin disiplínang ma-ádal dapít sa lengwáhe, mag-andám nin mga materyáles dángan mag-engganyár nin mga paratukdó na iyó an mabalangíbog kan lengwáhe.
 

Oróg na kaipúhan an mga lingwísta—sinda iyó an mga magámit kan lengwáhe—an katuyuhán iyó na maitalá, mahimáyhimáy, saká maisúrat iní.

 
Kaipúhan kan mga táwong magbása dángan magsúrat sa sadiri nindáng lengwáhe, kun ma’wot nindáng magpadágos iní; kun má’wot nindáng sindá mísmo magdánay.

 

Villa, Ciudad Iloilo
June 2008

                                              

Gold

Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing 
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.

We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves 
will find in a thousand years,
shining and whole.


Donald Hall, 
American poet laureate
1970

Summer

Quiet, calm afternoons bring me back to my afternoons in our old house in Bagacay. To avoid the baking heat of the rooms, I often lay down on the canopy of our rooftop, safe under the eaves. There, I fell asleep until a cooler breeze from the backyard of the Absins, our neighbors who owned the house at the foot of the hill, woke me up. The late afternoon was the best time to linger, then someone from the house—Mother, brother, or sister—called me for an afternoon treat of linabunan na batag or gina’tan.

Summer.

Acknowledgment
Paz Verdades "Doods" Santos, Bikol critic
The Literature teacher.