Mantang Nagmamaan... / While Looking... Poem by Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Garo sa diklom
na ipinandong kan langit
may sadit na luho

Hale digdi
sarong pisi ki sildang
an tisuhon na buminulos

Luhang garo hipidon na busay
paluwas sa mata
kan dagom

Kun sususugon sa baba
su kawatan an hinugpaan kaini
sa daga

Arog baga kan plorerang tubong
an pagtiripon kan burak buda tunok
pinumpon man digdi sa kawatan
an gabos na ogmang binuhian ta
sa kinaban

Garo baga nganing daing sayang
sa mga itinapok ta sinda an puminorot
tinambak digdi kan kamot na masuripot

Hilinga ta su mga sapi-sapi tang
sinambot kan gilyet na paros
digdi palan ruminalagpak

Nangangandam kan satong pangangaipong
bumalik dangan maghanap
sa lubungan kan satong kaluyahan

Garo su aldaw na ito uminabot na sako
mantang naghahalat sa saro sa mga bangko
masundo sa urulian kan alas-singko
sa lumang eskuwelahan ako napasyar
sa gilid kan kawatan nagtukaw-tukaw

Sinda yaon sa tahaw
matarom pa sa kudal ki tunok
an bilog na pagkaraputan
kan manipis na mga kamot

Sa pauro-otro nindang pagtalibong
pigkukurit ninda sa daga
an itsura kan saindang kinaban:
Matalimon, dai namamaanan

Sa ngarakngak nindang
hiling an tila-tila
nagsisirip an satuyang kaito
na kinaon na kan sadit nindang lawas.

Kaya niyani bintana
an mga nakangangang ngimot
kan hamot kan hilaw na awot.

Kun gabos sana kuta kita
tatao magmaan
makukua ta an nawara

Kun gabos kuta kita
yaon digdi nakahiling
sa paghulpot
kan tursido ki ilaw
hali sa luho
sa diklom na pandong
mataram su iba “luho na an langit”
“dai, ” masiring an iba, “may pag-asa.”

Hulyo 30,2004. T.S.C.E.S.

English:

As if in the gloom
worn by the sky
there is a small hole

From this
a thread of light
flows falterlessly

A tear like creaseless spring
out of the eye
of a needle

If we'd trace it below
the playground is where
it landed

Just like a vase which grasps
the gathering of flowers and thorns
also gathered here in the playground
are all the joy we've unleashed
to the world

It's like so that nothing would be wasted
they've picked up what we have thrown
piled here by a wise hand

Look, our kites
caught by the blade wind
all crashed here

They are anxious for our need
to return and look for
the graves of our frailty

As if that day has already come to me
while waiting on one of the benches
to fetch the dismissal of 5 o' clock
to the old school I've strayed
at the edge of the playground I've sat

They are there at the center,
sharper than a fence of thorns
is the circle of their thin
chain of hands

In their repeated winding
on the earth they are drawing
the shape of their world:
Round, unseen

In their tonsil-showing
gaping laughter
our past is peeking
swallowed by their small bodies

That's why, windows
are the gaping mouths
of the grass' unripe scent

If only all of us
knows how to see
we will find what was lost

If only all of us
are looking at this
expulsion
of a thread of light
from a hole
in the dark cover
some will say 'the sky is breeched'
'no' some will say 'there's hope.'