Like the Poet Needs the Paint

If there’s one thing about Chinese poet Wang Wei (699–759) that makes him stand out among other poets of the T’ang Dynasty, it would be his unique combination of poetry with painting, and his integration of painting and poetry, summed by a later poet in the phrase: “poetry in painting; painting in poetry.”

“In his poetry there is painting and in his painting there is poetry.”

—Sung poet Su Shih.

The poet’s personal milieu brings forth poetry. Wang Wei had lived with or under manageable personal circumstances. Times during his day were relatively prosperous. Under such circumstances, along with the poet’s serene temperament, and his internalization of Buddhist’s religiosity and resignation, Wang Wei’s poetry thrived and articulated perfect calm and transparency.

Wang Wei’s works, 400 of them extant, are said to be affirmations of the Buddhist faith, an element which played a major part in the intellectual and spiritual life of T’ang Dynasty. Along with poets Lin-Tsung-yu’an and Po Chin, Wang Wei was considered serious student of Buddhist thought, significantly giving expressions to their religious views and ideals. Their works would even qualify to be the true Buddhist poetry, one which is distinguished from that which merely dabbles in Buddhist terminology.

Wang-chu’an Poems is a collective body of poems collaborated by Wang Wei and Pie Ti, whose sensibility reflects Wang Wei’s taste. The work was also drawn from the experiences of the two friend poets when they stayed in Wang’s self-earned estate in the south-eastern capital.

Containing 20 poems by Wang Wei and the companion poems of Pie Ti—it is a treasure trove of impressions, preferences and observations of Wang Chu’an, the estate whose name means “wheel stream,” after the place where it was built.

In a letter to friend P’ei Ti, Wang Wei shares some warmth which he must have found with P’ei’s companionship in the hills of Wang-chu’an. Very well he tells P’ei’ Ti that his companionship with him had been because he knew they would jive toward seeking quietude or perhaps enlightenment: "Perhaps you would then be free to roam the hills with me? If I did not know your pure and unworldly cast of mind, I should have not presumed to ask you to join in this idle and useless activity."

Wang Wei’s pieces also belong to the true Buddhist poetry in which the philosophical meaning lies much farther below the surface. Its imagery simultaneously functions on both descriptive and symbolic levels. Thus it is not at all possible to pinpoint the exact symbolic content of the image.

Representing a great advance over Tao Chien in the tradition of tien-yuan poetry, a precursor who had a large following at the time, Wang Wei turned the five-syllabic meter into a more supple tool of self-expression through parallelism, inversion, careful placing of pivotal words and variations in the placing of the caesura in each line. 

Yin & Yang. Considered one of the greatest High T’ang poets, Wang Wei’s works often take a Buddhist perspective, combining an attention to the beauties of nature with an awareness of sensory illusion. His work is an interface of reality and fantasy or imagination, traceable to the twin influences of Buddhism and landscape painting. Wang Wei’s poems are distinguished by visual immediacy on one hand and by meditative insight on the other.

Wang Wei’s poetry appeals to the reader because the poet is able to explore the world of nature and men; the poet virtually communicates directly with the reader; and the poet gets to express what is seldom expressible in any language—the profound insight of a poet to “see into the life of things.” 

Wang Wei’s inspiration for landscape. An earlier poet named Hsieh Ling-yun (385–433) who lived 400 years before Wang Wei’s time must have provided the inspiration for the Wang-chu’an poems, as is obvious from the names of his hills and mounds—Hua-tsu-kang Ridge, Axe-leafed Bamboo Peak—places celebrated by Hsieh Ling-yun himself.

This poet has keen eye for detail, whether describing the simple rustic life on a farm or writing about the joy and peace he found in nature. His poems blend the most concrete vocabulary with the abstract, empty, being, non-being, etc. Such effort he takes to create a special atmosphere—

The birds fly south in unending procession

These hills again wear the colours of autumn

Their green leaves fluttering over an eddying stream

Pliant yet upright, these bamboos adorn slope and peak.

Depicting the real scenes or panoramas where he consciously chosen for introspection, Wang Wei’s Wang chi’an poems attempt to sketch these places—the way details of colour, light, sounds and scent are carelessly interspersed—thereby virtually creating impressive panoramas and perspective.

What makes Wang Wei’s poems most interesting is that the poet is able to explore, or play around the world of nature and man; he is also able to get his message across the reader; and he is able to articulate the grandness of a poet’s insight—“to see into the life of things,” one which is hardly expressible in any language.

Deep in the bamboo grove I sit alone

Singing to the brimming music of the lute

In the heart of the forest I am quite unknown

Save to the visiting moon, and she is mute.

~“Bamboo Villa”

Animal Husbandry*

Mayong maogmang persona sa kadaklan na mga obra ni Frank Peñones, Jr., sarong manugbinalaybay na tubong Bicol. Kun igwa man ngaya, mabibilang sana sa muro an magayagayang mga tema sa iya nga mga rawitdawit. Kadaklan sainda mayo nin kaogmahan sa mundo. Sa manlaenlaen na rason. Kun ano-anong kadahilanan—ukon sa kadaklan na beses nin huli ta sinda igwang kabangdanan o kapigaduhon.

Enot sa iya nga “Panayoknok,” ukon lullaby sa Ingles, na sarong anyo kan talinghaga kan suanoy nang panahon, mayo nin linga, mayo nin aling—uda sang hingalo ukon diskansong mamamate sa iloy nga nagpapaturog kan saiyang aki. Nagpaparahibi an aki kan persona—kaya pinapaalo niya ini; alagad mayo lamang siyang ginahambal nga tibaad makapahipos diri. Ata nang gutom, gusto niya pa ining magturog nin hararom (“Turog na, aki kong bugtong/ magkaturog kang hararom.).”

Dawa ngani gutom na an aki, segun sa ina, tioson na sana daa kaini an naghihilab nang tulak (“an saimong pagkagutom/ biyo mo na lang ipiton.”). Dai na daa siya maghulat sa ama kaini ta dai na man sana ini magpuli (“Dae ka magparahibi/ bayaan mga pagmáte/ ta si tatay di mapuli/ binitin duman sa Saudi.”).

Sarong makaluluoy na ritrato an yaon sa piyesang ini. Kalabanan, an pinapaalo man sana kanpersona iyo an sadiri niya. An hagad kan aking nagpaparahibi pagkakan, alagad garo man nanggad tios na sindang maray ta ipiton na sana daa kaini an nagbuburukbusok na tulak. Waay et pagkaon na maihatag an ina sa saiyang kabuhan.

Dahil sa an agom niya ginadan, dai na maaling-aling kan asawa an saiyang kamugtakan. Daing palad na kamugtakan. Kaya na sana man, bisan an saiyang aki—na dawa puwede man ngani—indi mahatagan kan saiyang kaipuhan.

Sa “Agrangay,” yaon an primeval na drama kan búhay kan personang binayaan gihapon kan saiyang bana. Daing gahos na an asawang hilingon o tanawon an inabot na kapaladan kan saiyang rinimpos na kaibahan (“Dai na siya asin an kaya ko na lang ngonian,/...tanawon siya sa harayo”).

Nadakop an saiyang agom kan balyong tribu pagkasiod kaini kan sarong usang ngapit kakanon kan saiyang pamilya (“Naghali lang siya may kapot na mara/ may kapot na mara sa paglapag nin usa.”). Dai na nakabwelta an nasambit nang bana ta nasiod siya kan mga taga-balyong tribu (Duman sa bukid an tribo sa balyo/ an tribo sa balyo nahiling siyang gayo.).

Igwang kung anong kamunduan sa sini nga ladawan. Yaon an pungaw, sagkod ngilo kan dayuyu sa mga nagkapirang linyang inaawit dangan inooro-otro kan personang ini ho. Mayo nanggad mahimo an asawa para sa bana niyang nahihiling niya na sanang binubuno sa harayo.

Ano man nanggad an sala kan saiyang bana? Sa kadagaan kan mga barbaro kaidto maiintindihan ta na tibaad nakalagbas an lalaki sa teritoryo kaining balyong tribu— (“Asin pigbayaran niyang mahal, kan sakong mahal/ an sakong usa sa saindang abaga.”). Paglamag niya kan sini nga usa dangan niya nanuparan an mga nakakabalwarte digdí—o basi man nanggad mga kagrogaring kaini.

Lulusubon man ngaya kan sa ilang mga katribo idtong mga yaon sa balyo (“Ngonian na banggi mantang an sakong mga ka-tribo/ an sakong mga ka-tribo nagsasayaw nganing siya balukaton/ sa paagi nin mara na nakatukdo sa mga bitoon,/ mga bitoon na nagpupula na.”).

Alagad ngonyan mayo na siyang gahos na hilingon an gadan niya nang agom (“Dai ko kayang tanawon lang siya sa harayo/… Mantang nagsasayaw sinda palibot saiya/ palibot saiya, an saiyang payo sa puro kan mara.”).

Sa duwang piyesang binasa, iniistorya kan mga asawa na parehong gadan an saindang bana. Nakaistar sinda sa duwang panahon, nagdayo an duwang bana sa balyong daga—nakipagsapalaran ta ngani gayod mataparan an kaipuhan kan saindang mga kabuhan.

Sa duwang bana, dai nahiling si saindang pagkadakila yaon sa sakripisyo para sa ila nga ginahigugma—sa ibang kultura sinda nagkasala. An saro binitay, an saro man kinatay—trinatong garo mga hayop, mga animal. Pareho sindang ginadan dahil sa kasalan. Dangan man sa duwang obra, nagbabangkay sila sa ilang mga asawa. Nakaistar sinda sa duwang panahon, mayo sindang nahimo nganing masaylohan an inabot na kapaladan.

Mayong maogmang asawa sa sini nga mga obra ni Peñones. Para sainda mayo nin ogma ta mayo na nin bana. Para sainda, madiklom mapait an kapaladan nin huli ta sinda nabayaan.

Sa siring na mga pangyayari, sa mga realidad na pigladawan, tibaad igwang maghapot kun haen an kapas kan mga babaying ini na manindugan? Mayo. Bako man gayod siyang arog kaiyan kabalingkinitan—o ka-maselan. Igwa man gayod kusog an asawa ta nganing rimposon an pungaw kan kagadanan, ta nganing labanan an isog kan kapigaduhon. Maaanggotan si Peñones sa peministang iristoryahan.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

manugbinalaybay, parásurát nin tula

ukon, o

kapigaduhon, pagtios

iloy, ina

sang, nin

ginahambal, sinasabi

nga, na

makapahipos, makapaalo
diri, digdi
maghulat, maghalat

makaluluoy, makaherak

kalabanan, magsala

waay et, mayo nin

maihatag, maitao

asawa, agom na babayi

sa ila, sainda
ginahigugma, namomo'tan

bisan, dawa

indi, dai

gihapon, giraray, man

bana, agom na lalaki

sini nga, ining

*Animal husbandry refers to the breeding, feeding and management of animals or livestock for the production of food, fiber, work and pleasure. (Source: Microsoft ® Encarta ® 2009. © 1993-2008 Microsoft Corporation.).

The Writer of Our Discontent

Mayong maogmang persona sa mga obra ni Frank Peñones, Jr. Kun igwa man ngaya, mabibilang ta sana sa muro an magayagayang mga tema sa saiyang mga rawitdawit. Bako man nin huli ta gabos sainda nagmumundo kundi nin huli ta an kadaklan sainda igwang dakulang disgusto sa mga bagay sa palibot ninda.

In 2010, Bikol poet Frank Peñones, Jr. (FPJ)
considered that the plethora of Bikol literature,
flowing from the current output of individual writers altogether
contribute to the flowering of the Bikol literature.

Gabos sainda igwang mga isyu—igwang mga reklamo. Partikularmente, kadaklan sainda, dai kuntento, o masasabi tang mayo nin kaogmahan sa mundo. Sa manlaen laen na rason. Kun ano-anong kadahilanan—alagad ta sa kadaklan na beses, nin huli ta sinda nadada’tugan, natutu’makan, o nasasaniban.

Normal man sana ini—kun susumahon ta o kun hihilingon ta an palibot kun sain nabuhay si Frank Peñones, Jr. Nabuhay si Frank Peñones, Jr. (FPJ) bako man gayong harayo sa palibot na pig-itokan kan kinaban kan saro pa man na FPJ—an artistang si Fernando Poe, Jr.

Puwede ta nganing sabihon na an duwang FPJ—duwa katao, sarong pangaran—nin huli man sana ta tibaad pareho an karera ninda sa buhay. Magtao nin boses sa saradit, sa inaapi, sa dinuduhagi, sa mayo nin lugar sa kinaban na ini.

Mala ngani ta sa enot na tataramon ni Paz Verdades Santos sa Cancion can Tawong Lipod, an panduwang poetry anthology ni Frank Peñones, Jr. na paluwas pa sana, nasilag kan Bikolista kun pa’no siya nagpumirit na ipadangog an saiyang tingog sa saiyang mga kahimanwa dangan man sa gabos na Pilipino.

Sa nasambit nang koleksyon, sinaro-saro ni Frank Peñones, Jr. an pagbubuyboy niya sa mga isyu kan saiyang banwa. Gamit an manlainlain na persona sa saiyang mga tula, tinawan duon ni Frank Peñones, Jr. an balor kan paghiling kan mga Bikolano sa saindang sadiring dila, na nangangahulugan nin pagrumpag kan mga institusyon arog kan gobyerno, simbahan asin ano man na status quo.

Sa kadaklan niyang mga obra, tinuya-tuya niya an mga yaon sa poder. Binunyag niya an mga anomaliya kan mga poderosong abusado arog kan academya, kamara asin pulisiya.

Sa mahahamot na rima sagkod mga paghorop-horop sa nagkapirang buhay kan saiyang mga persona, hinalayhay niya sa madla an bata kan sosyedad na minaratak sa derechos kan ordinaryong Bikolano.

Ano daw ta igwang kung anong kamunduan sa kada tingog na pinapataram sa mga obrang sini ni Frank Peñones, Jr.?

Nothing Writes So Much As Blood

Nothing writes so much as blood.

The rest are mere strangers.

—corrupted from Lawrence Kasdan’s Wyatt Earp, 1994

Dear Mother

Some twelve years ago, when I was working for Plan International Bicol, gathering information from the NGO’s beneficiaries-respondents in the upland barangays surrounding Mount Isarog and the Bicol National Park, I kept a notebook where I wrote the following verse for my mother Emma, who passed away in January 1996.

In that job, I kept a journal wherever I went—perhaps to relive the days with my mother whom I dearly lost during her life [I hardly had time for her when she was sick because my editorship in the college paper ate up my schedule] and tearfully loved after her death [after college graduation, there was not much to do aside from job-hunting and freelancing with media entities around Naga City]. And there was not much reason to hunt for jobs at all because there would be no one to offer my first salary.

The original scribbles below were written on a yellow pad paper.

The Sea House

For Emma, who loved so much

1996

Tomorrow 

I will build a house

by the forest near the sea

where

six palm trees 

will become 

brave bystanders by day—

and 

warm candles by night.

Pride from a Published Poem

After so many versions and revisions, a national magazine then edited by the National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin—published a longer submission (see below) before the end of the year. The publication of my poem in Philippine Graphic Weekly thrilled me to no end. I felt too lucky to have my [too personal a] sentiment printed in a national publication.

It even seemed like the tribute to my mother was more heightened. For one, she would have loved to see my work printed on a national paper. Sad to say, though, it is my contemplation on her death that would give [her or me] such pride.

The Sea House

Philippine Graphic Weekly, November 1996

I hate to leave really.

But I should go home tonight.

Tomorrow I will build a house 

by the forest near the sea 

where I alone 

can hear my silence.

For it, I gathered six palm trees

stronger than me, to become

the pillars, firm foundations

of my tranquil days to come

which I will not anymore hear.

I know the trees are good 

for they survived many typhoons in the past

which uprooted many others

and which made others bend,

and die.

I hope they become bright lamps

along the black road

where I will pass through 

when I go home tonight.

I hope they’d be there

and that they would recognize me.

And if they don’t, it wouldn’t matter.

I would not want any trees other than them.

For I know they are very good.

But tonight, please 

let them be 

my warm candles.

And when I’m home 

I will be certain:

Tomorrow, I will have built a house

in the forest near the sea where

Every palm tree can hear his silence. 

And the others can listen.

A Reader’s Response

Finding the poem in one of my diskette files when I applied for work in Quezon City and Manila, my brother Mente—perhaps to while away his time in SRTC [his workplace then where I typed hundreds of my resumes] in Kalayaan Avenue back in 1997—must have liked it so much that consequently, he translated it in Bikol, rendering a rather old, archaic Bikol version.

An Harong Sa May Dagat

(Para qui Emma, na sobrang namoot)

1997

Magabat an boot co na maghale,

Alagad caipuhan co na mag-uli 

Ngonyan na banggui.

Sa aga, matugdoc aco nin harong 

Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat,

Cun sain aco na sana an macacadangog 

Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

Sa palibot caini, matanom aco 

Nin anom na poon nin niyog 

Na mas masarig sa saco, 

Na magiging manga harigi—

Manga pusog na pundasyon 

Can manga matuninong cong aldaw

Na dae co naman madadangog.

Ma’wot co na sinda magserbing 

Maliwanag na ilaw sa dalan

Sa macangirhat na diclom, 

Cun sain aco ma-agui 

Sa sacuyang pag-uli 

Ngonyan na banggui.

Ma’wot co man na yaon sinda duman 

Asin na aco mamidbid ninda. 

Alagad cun sinda malingaw saco, 

Dae na bale. Dae nungca aco mahanap 

Nin caribay ninda, nin huli ta aram co 

Na sinda manga marhay.

Alagad sa atyan na banggui, 

Hahagadon co na sinda

Magserbing manga maiimbong 

Na candela cataid co.

Asin cun aco naca-uli na

Sigurado aco na sa aga

Naca-guibo aco nin harong 

Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat

Cun sain aco na sana 

An macacadangog 

Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

Asin an iba macacadangog.

My Brother, My Reader, My Writer 

Perhaps having the spirit of the classicists who dearly loved the classical age before them, for one, reinventing an old manuscript to serve their own purposes, Mente made an English version based on his English translation.

Perhaps wanting to relive for himself the memory of our dear mother who was rather fonder of him [than the rest of us], Mente turned in his own masterpiece based on the published poem. Notice how the versification has radically changed—from irregular free verses to a series of couplets—and ending with a one-liner which is supposed to be the poem’s closure.

In the process, the version he rendered would become totally his original work. Comparing his piece with the original published piece, I see that the new work now brims with new meanings and warrants a different, if not disparate interpretation.

The House by The Sea

(For Emma, who Loved So Much)

1997

I leave with a heavy heart 

But I need to go home tonight.

Tomorrow, I’ll build a house by the sea,

Where only I will hear my tranquility.

Around it I’ll plant six coconut trees

Which are stronger than I am.

Trees that will become the stable foundation 

of my quiet days, which I will no longer hear.

Undoubtedly, these coconut trees are of the best quality

Because they have overcome a lot of storm, that uprooted the others.

I want them to light the way through horrible darkness,

Where I will pass when I go home tonight.

I like them to be there and for them to know me

But never mind if they’ve forgotten me.

Nobody can replace them 

Because I know they are good.

But tonight I’ll ask them to be like candles,

Warm, beside me.

And when I am home

I will have surely built a house by the sea 

Where only I will hear my tranquility.

And others will hear it, too.

A Promise to Write (A Poem)

After having undergone a number of literary workshops, I realize that images, symbols and metaphors [if any if at all] I used in the first draft are confusing and too overwhelming—giving it a puzzling dramatic situation. Now, I realize that the poem published in the past and wholly appreciated by my dear brother—with my sister perhaps, my sole readers at the time—carried double and mixed metaphors which rendered the piece fragmented, incoherent and totally not a good poem at all.

And perhaps because it was dedicated to my dear mother, I never subjected this piece to any workshop which granted me fellowships. I submitted other pieces, and not this one, perhaps because I considered the work too sacred to be “desecrated”—or more aptly slaughtered by the write people.

The images in the poem were drawn mostly from emotion, not reason. There was not even a clear use of figurative language or tropes such as metaphor or irony, a fact that would be abhorred by the American New Critics (who espoused that everything that we need to know about the poem should already be in the poem itself—and to the very least, never in the author’s intention, never in my sincerest wish to dedicate it to my mother.

Jerome Mendoza Hipolito

Sarong Pagbasa kan “Ki Agom” ni Niño Manaog
Facebook Post by Jerome Mendoza Hipolito on Wednesday, May 23, 2012 at 11:19pm

Saro na garo sa mga nakakauyam na pwedeng mangyari sa sarong tawo kun minahali sa harong iyo, na maabutan nin uran sa dalan. Mabasol na sana ini kun nata dai niyan na pigsuksok sa bag an saiyang payong, mala ta nagduwa-duwa kun dadarahon ini o dai, magayon kaya an oras kan paghali niya sa harong.

Kaya kan biglang pigbulos kan langit an saiyang kulog boot, kan daing patabi ining nag-ula kan saiyang laog, Dai siyang naginibo kundi an magpandong kisera kan saiyang panyong gurusot mantang babagtason an dalan pauli, duman kun sain naghahalat an saiyang namumutan.

Alagad kun tutuoson, tano kaibuhan, sabaton an uran kan su babaying agom, nata dai na sana siya magpahuraw kun baga ngaya sa sarong waiting shed o maghapit ngaya baga sa sarong haraning tindahan asin magbakal baratuhon na payong. Ano an nagpugol saiya na magpundo muna, maghalat, mag-isip nganing dai mabasa, dai magkasipon o magkakalintura?

Sa enot na pagbasa kan rawitdawit, romantiko an agom na lalaki, pigtuyaw tulos kaini an kamuntakan kan su babayi na basa-basa kan tubig uran mata ta naunambitan niyang nagtutururo an su'ot [niyang] palda. Kun siring makusugon na marhay an uran. Asin masasabing dawa gurano kakusog kan su uran, pigmarhay kan babayi na pumuli, tano daw? bako daw nagpirit ining magpuli dawa mangkusog kan bulos kan uran dara kan takot kaini, kiisay? Taslot sa agom na lalaki.

Kun Kaya sa ika limang linya nagtarakig an saiyang ngabil dara kan parehong takot asin bako kan lipot sa luwas? Makaduda an maburak na tataramon kan lalaki lalo na an, mari digdi nagparasain ka, Ne? Dawa pwedeng sabihon na rhetorical question,pwede man ining sarong hapot kan tawong daing pagtubod sa agom. An mapakusog kaini iyo an nasabi kan lalaki, nagparapauran ka na naman pauli? An boot sabihon sana, bako ini an enot na napanyaring pinirit kan agom na babayi na pumuli dawa maraot an panahon.

Sa hurihan kan rawitdawit, Dai diriktang pigsambit kun ano an dai masisigbo, sa romantikong paghiling-pagkamoot garo, alagad sa ibang anggulo, takot kan agom na babayi sa agom na lalaki an maurog, an dai nanggad masisigbo, maski magparapauran [pa siya]. 

Reference

Chancoco, Jose Jason, ed. (2005) Salugsog sa Sulog. Tomo Uno, Naga: OragonRepublic.com. p. 32.

Fallacies and Truths

Ki Emma, na sobrang namoot

Some 15 years ago, when I was working for Plan International Bicol, gathering information from the NGO’s beneficiaries respondents in the upland barangays surrounding Mount Isarog and the Bicol National Park, I carried a notebook where I wrote verses for my mother Emma, who passed away in January 1996.

The Sea House

For Emma, who loved so much

1996

Tomorrow I will build a house

by the forest near the sea

where six palm trees will become 

brave bystanders by day—

and warm candles by night.

At the time, I kept a journal wherever I went—perhaps to relive the days with my mother whom I dearly lost during her life [I hardly had time for her when she was sick] and tearfully loved after her death [after college graduation, there was not much to do aside from job-hunting and freelancing]. And there was not much reason to hunt for jobs at all because there would be no one to offer my first salary.

Pride, Not Prejudice

After so many versions and revisions, a national magazine then edited by the National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin—published a longer submission (see below) before the end of the year. The publication of my poem in Philippine Graphic Weekly thrilled me to no end. I felt too lucky to have my [too personal a] sentiment printed in a national publication.

With this, the tribute to my mother was heightened. For one, she would have loved to see my work printed on a national paper. Sad to say, though, it is my contemplation on her death that would give [her or me] such pride.

The Sea House

Philippine Graphic Weekly

November 1996

I hate to leave really.

But I should go home tonight.

Tomorrow  I will build a house 

by the forest near the sea 

where I alone can hear my silence.

For it, I gathered six palm trees

stronger than me, to become

the pillars, firm foundations

of my tranquil days to come

about which I will not anymore hear.

I know the trees are good 

for they survived many typhoons

in the past that uprooted many others

and which made others bend, and die.

I hope they become bright lamps

along the road where I will pass

when I go home tonight.

I hope they’d be there and that

they would recognize me.

And if they don’t, it wouldn’t matter.

I would not want any trees

other than them.

For I know they are very good.

But tonight, please let them be

my warm candles.

And when I’m home I will be certain:

Tomorrow, I will have built a house

in the forest near the sea where

Every palm tree can hear silence. 

And the others can listen.

Reader’s Response

Finding the poem in one of my diskette files when I applied for work in Quezon City and Manila, my brother Mente—perhaps to while away his time—translated it to Bikol, rendering a rather old, Bikol archaic version.

An Harong Sa May Dagat

(Para qui Emma, na sobrang namoot)

1997

Magabat an boot co na maghale,

Alagad caipuhan co na mag-uli 

Ngonyan na banggui.

Sa aga, matugdoc aco nin harong 

Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat,

Cun sain aco na sana an macacadangog 

Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

Sa palibot caini, matanom aco 

Nin anom na poon nin niyog 

Na mas masarig sa saco, 

Na magiging mga harigi—

Manga pusog na pundasyon 

Can manga matuninong cong aldaw

Na dae co naman madadangog. 

Ma’wot co na sinda magserbing

Maliwanag na ilaw sa dalan

Sa macangirhat na diclom, 

Cun sain aco ma-agui 

Sa sacuyang pag-uli

Ngonyan na banggui.

Ma’wot co man na yaon sinda duman

Asin na aco mamidbid ninda. 

Alagad cun sinda malingaw saco, 

Dae na bale.

Nungca na aco mahanap 

Nin caribay ninda, nin huli ta aram co

Na sinda mga marhay.

Alagad atyan na banggui, 

Hahagadon co na sinda

Magserbing mga maiimbong 

Na candila cataid co.

Asin cun aco naca-uli na

Sigurado aco na sa aga

Iguwa na aco nin harong 

Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat

Cun sain aco na sana

An macacadangog 

Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

Asin an iba macacadangog.

My Brother, My Executioner

Perhaps having the spirit of the classicists who dearly loved the classical age before them, reinventing an old manuscript to serve their own purposes, Mente made an English version based on his English translation.

Wanting to relive for himself the memory of our dear mother, Mente turned in his own masterpiece based on the published poem. Notice how the versification has radically changed—from irregular free verses to a series of couplets—and ending with a one-liner which is supposed to be the poem’s closure.


In the process, the version he rendered would become totally his original work. Comparing his piece with the original published piece, I see that the new work now brims with new meanings and warrants a different, if not disparate interpretation.

The House by The Sea

(For Emma, who Loved So Much)

1997

I leave with a heavy heart

But I need to go home tonight.

Tomorrow, I’ll build a house by the sea,

Where only I will hear my tranquility.

Around it I’ll plant six coconut trees

Which are stronger than I am.

Trees that will become the stable foundation 

of my quiet days, which I will no longer hear.

Undoubtedly, these coconut trees are the best

Because they have overcome many storms, that uprooted the others.

I want them to light the way through horrible darkness,

Where I will pass when I go home tonight.

I like them to be there and for them to know me

But it wouldnt matter if they’ve forgotten me.

Nobody can replace them 

Because I know they are good.

But tonight I’ll ask them to be like candles,

Warm, beside me. And when I am home 

I will have surely built a house by the sea 

Where only I will hear my tranquility.

And others will hear it, too.

A Promise to Write (A Poem)

After having undergone a number of literary workshops, I realize that images, symbols and metaphors [if any if at all] I used in the first draft were confusing and too overwhelming—giving it a puzzling dramatic situation. 


Now, I realize that the poem published in the past and wholly appreciated by my dear brother—with my sister perhaps, my sole readers at the time—carried double and mixed metaphors which rendered the piece fragmented, incoherent and totally not a good poem at all.

          And perhaps because it was dedicated to my dear mother, I never subjected this piece to any workshop. I submitted other pieces, and not this one.  Perhaps because I considered the work too sacred to be desecrated, or more aptly, slaughtered by the write people.

Nothing writes so much as blood; 
the rest are mere strangers.

—corrupted from Lawrence Kasdan’s Wyatt Earp, 1994