Post by thepoetslizard on Oct 10, 2008 16:00:08 GMT 2
Judith Balares Salamat
[Bicol poet]
Bio
Judith Balares Salamat teaches Literature in Bicol, Philippines.
She holds a PhD in Comparative Literature from the University of the
University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City (2002). She has presented papers in international conferences in Thailand, Indonesia, USA, Singapore, and the Philippines-- on ethnography, technology, literature and culture.
In September 2007, she won the “Writer of the Year” Award in an annual literary contest in the Bicol region in the Philippines for her essay on teaching and creativity. She has written articles, poems, and features for local, national, and international magazines and journals. She also writes columns for a local weekly, the Bikol Reporter.
"Ngonian na banggi"
Ngonian na banggi
gagadanon ta ka, papa.
Mantang turog-turog ako,
minapirong pag nadutan,
an sakong mga tunok
magigin mga kutsilyo
na matusok saimo.
Si mga tugang kong lalaki
ginibong katre an tinampo,
nagin atop an tren asin
nagin tsinelas an aspalto.
Si mga tugang kong babaye,
ginibong ka-istorya
an mga gumamela
taguan an sirong
nin mga haldat na hinihilom
kun minasaro saimo
an anino kan mga anghel
na may mga pakpak na daing balukag.
Ki Mama, an aldaw nagin banggi
an banggi nagin aldaw
asin pirming nakahiling sa sulnupan,
o sa trangkahan, nagtatanaw,
naghihinanyog nin simong pag-abot
na atyan, ipagngangayo-ngayo
sa mga kandila asin kahoy na rebulto
mantang naghihinghingan
an mga natad asin palibot.
Ngonian, na nagbalik ka,
gagadanon ta ka, papa
Dai ko tutugutan na magsaro an anino mo
o an saimong mga anghel
sa sakuyang payo.
"Tonight "
(Translation by the author)
Tonight, I will slay you, father.
While I am a mimosa
that shrinks when touched,
my thorns will be like knives
that will pierce you.
My brothers
made the road their bed,
the trains their roof, the asphalt their slippers
My sisters talked to the hibiscus
and the basement became the storage
for their secret aches
each time the winged angels without feathers
possessed you.
For mama, mornings became evenings,
and evenings became mornings
and always she scanned the West,
or the gate, keening for your homing footsteps
which she later would pray for
before candles and wooden statues
while the neighborhood murmured
sibilant gossips.
Now that you’ve come back,
I will slay you, papa
I will not let your shadow nor your angels
possess my head.
*
"Aruwana"
Mga banderetas sa kalye
kun piyesta an mga sirang nagbabarayle
sa tubig,
may bulawan, burik-butikan,
may asul-berde
naglalayaw-layaw na libre
Kan ilinaog an aruwana
sa saindang estada,
an nahiling na sana
an burukbusok nin mga butog,
mga pulang lobong
nagpupurutok
asin namate an paghoyop
kan habagat nin makusog.
"Aruwana"
(Translation by the author)
Like paper buntings
on the street during fiesta
are the fishes dancing
in the water,
golden,
some are blue-green,
freely gliding.
When the aruwana
was brought in their tank,
what was only seen
and heard
were the bubbling
and the bursting
of red balloons and the coming
of the strong southern wind.
*
Paghawan nin Doot, Huwebes Santo Gamit an sundang, saru-saro kong ginabot an gamot kan purứngot na mga doot garong parahabon sa matangâ na nagtunga asin naglaog sa mahiwas na laguerta kan sakong pagkakaturog. Kinaputan ko an pinakalawas ninda asin iwinagwag ngona an nakakurapot na daga sa poon arog baga kan pagwigtik kan mga itom na tánga na nakadukot sa mga bado sa sablayan kan sakong kalag, dangan ipinagpag an lawas kaini nganing makasuhay na intiro sa hawak an doot. asin sakong inutro... ginabot, iwinagwag, itinagtag, mantang nagtuturo sa pamitisan ko an buro-baybay kong gânot. Kan matipon ko an sarong tambak na doot sa gilid nagliwanag an sakong natad, an pagkaagimadmad sa mga burak na liwat digdi puedeng magbuswak, asin naghoyop-hoyop an doros sa sakong lawog asin buhok. Alagad, malanit na an sirang kan saldang, nasusula na ako asin an sulog kan ganot ko abot nang habayan, oras na para maghugas man ako kan maati kong kamot mantang nag-aapod na an bagtingan sa simbahan nin mga tawong boot mahugasan an saindang bitis
Translation: Weeding on a Maundy Thursday With a bolo, I dug at the roots of the clump of weeds that like a thief in the night appeared and trespassed in the open yard of my sleep. I held their stems shaking first the earth that clung at their roots, the way I did with the black ants that teemed in the clothesline of my soul. then I beat their stems making sure to separate the earth from the roots repeating my act of pulling, shaking and beating, while my sand-grain sweat fell down my feet. When I was able to gather a pile of weeds at a corner, my yard radiated a certain kind of brightness, a vision of flowers that may soon bloom here. The wind blew at my face and hair. But the sunlight already burns my skin, I am blinded by its glare, and my perspiration flows down to my hips, it is time I also wash my soiled hands for the bells at the church now call for people wanting their feet to be cleansed.
