HARIBOL SURALISTA

HARIBOL SURALISTA
Pag-omawon an Kagurangnan, an pursang minabusol kan sakong pluma. Haribol.

RABURAB KAN LUYONG

"Poverty of the arts!”
Richard Madrilejos, an luyong na artist

1.
Paroro an kinaban ta, Padaba. Mantang an tubig kan kinaban naglalangkaw, an pagkanitawo ta naghihibabaw. Napapakuspa ako, uru-aldaw an satong mga langang balwarte na kan mga propeta kan sagin buda mga matinis na anghel na pandok pirak. An gabos iubos an maghapon ninda sa pagbutla sa mga istasyon kan baratong kaogmahan. An TV an maogmang helang, an legal na mahabas, an manlalansing buhi kan konspirasiya kan mga hagas. Ibugtak ini sa hampang ta para lamoson kita sa hudong, badaton kita ki sagmaw buda hangaw.

Mantang pigbubuyungaw an mga librohan, piggigibong kasilyasan an mga eskwelahan, pigkakarayuan an mga institusyon, an mga galeriya, an mga silensiyong museyo, pigpupurupilsi ta an bulitas sa buto kan itom na kahon sa sala, pig-uutob ta an hiro kan lapnad na liwanag.

Subtle na maray an doom na pigkakalot ta, ta dai ta hiling an kalot. Kaitong mga panahon, an mga kamagurangan ta nagrabas sa panahon buda sinilyaban an gabos na maagihan nindang bako sinda an kagibo, linupigan buda rinaodas an gabos na bako nindang ina o tugang, kinarne su mga bako ninda kakolor, kadila o kabandera—Ngonian, gabos kita nagpapamburukod pabugsok sa hampas kan modernong panahon, mga sablok, mga mantok. Nagngangararakngak na lasngag, bangag sa mga presenteng adiksiyon. Daing pagpugol an bultok tang mga kamot sa pagraot sa sato man sanang minukna kan kita ubat pa. Mga nakabuhi sa toril kan mga sugo buda relehiyon, iramog ta sa satuyang lawas an ati kan mga hayop, isungkal ta kan satong ngislo an tinimak-timakan kan Pilato tang bitis sa ibang panahon kan satong pugol na moralidad.

An dulom kan eclipse na dai naghihiro yaon sa tangod ta ngonian. Pero an mga mata ta sa pigkukumbulsiyon sa tama kan mga maisog na ilusyon. Isangat kita sa langkaw-droga kan paglataw kan sarong nahuhungkang, na garo naglalayap an pagmati dawa natatakdag.

Ayko! Kagadanan sana an diyos na kaya tang patotoohan, tubudan, luhudan! Rarabason ta an kinaban, sarong rawog ki ayam na paslo buda namamagat mantang an hubang lawas kan kasaysayan naghihingagdan.

2.
Muya ko sanang magparataram, Padaba. Sa mga bangging arog kaining mauran. Kita sanang duwa, mantang su satong mga pag-iriba lawas na nagkaurungman kan osipunon na bintana.

Muya kong agyaton an ala-syeteng aga, na masubol na naman samuya gabos pasiring sa pamitsan kan prominenteng makina buda an mga invisible niyang mga latigo.

Dai na ako napapahibi sa uyam na nag-anab kan sakong pagmati. Ilinunad ko na an natatada kong kalag sa marabas kong pangaturugan na luwas laog sa tulong panahon, kaito, ngonian, mag-abuton. Arog sa sarong Jumper na buhing nagbabyahe sa paagi kan mga ritrato.

Nakabuhi na ako, Padaba. Hali sa labtok, kinanap ko an gamot kan paroy pasakat sa saiyang buswak. Sa sakong muklat, ako an puon na nabuhay sa pagsilo ki burabod sa huyop, ako an pisog na tuminambo sa sarong tasang gapo.

Matindog ako sa tahaw kan satong kadikloman, dara an sakong ugop-ugop, pagkamuot, orag-orag, papasilyabon ko an sakong lawas, sarong mongheng may protesta, sarong bukid ki uhot na warang manganganog, sa pagrumdom saimo.



Enero 7, 2010. Pawa, Tabaco City.

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Karangahan Online

Karangahan Online
Karangahan: Pagranga sa Panurat Bikolnon. Kagibo: Jimple Borlagdan. Pinduton an ritrato para makaduman sa Karangahan

On Borlagdan's Poetry


A Rush of Metaphors, Tremor of Cadences, and Sad Subversions
By Tito Genova Valiente
titovaliente@yahoo.com

The first time I read the poems of Jesus Jaime Borlagdan, Jimple to those who know him, I felt immediately the seething movement of the words. There was a rush of metaphors in his works. I immediately liked the feeling that the rhythm caused in one’s reading for poetry, in my book, should always be read aloud. I was hearing the voice. It was a voice that happened to sound from afar and it was struggling to link up with a present that would not easily appear.

It was heartbreaking to feel the form. I felt the lines constricting. I saw the phrases dangling to tease, breaking the code of straight talk and inverting them to seduce the mind to think beyond the words. Somewhere, the poems were reverting back to direct sentences, weakening the art of poetry with its universe of ellipses and nuances, but then as suddenly as the words lightened up, the poems then dipped back into a silent retreat, into a cave, to lick its own wounds from the confrontation that it dared to initiate.

For this column, I decide to share parts of the longer paper I am writing about this poet.

In Karangahan, the poet begins with: Bulebard, ikang muymuyon na salog/ki gatas buda patenteng nakahungko,/ako ngonian kahurona. Borlagdan translates this into:Boulevard, you forlorn river/ of milk and downcast lights/ speak to me now. Savor the translation, for in Bikol that which is a dialog has become an entreaty.)

The poet is always talking to someone but in An istorya ninda, an osipon ta, he talks about a the fruits of some narrative: Ta sa dara nindang korona kita an hadi/ sa krus, kita su may nakatadok na espada./Naitaram na ninda an saindang istorya./Punan ta na man su satong osipon./This I translate as: For in the crown they bear we are the King/ on the cross, with the embedded sword./ Marvel at this construction, as the poet cuts at the word “hadi” and begins the next line with “krus” and the “espada.” Marvel, too, at how he looks at conversion and faith, a process that made us special but also wounded us with ourselves stuck with the sword.

Finally, the poet says those lines of the true believer: They have already spoken their story, now let us begin with our tale. The poet does not have a translation but will the istorya in this line be “history” and osipon be “myth.” Shall these last four lines in the first stanza be both a subversion of our faith embedded in a foreign culture or a celebration of what we are not, and what we have not become?
Puni na an paghidaw. Puni na an pagluwas/hali sa kwartong pano ki luha, puni na/an paghiling sa luwas kan bintana./Puni na an paghidaw para sa binayaan./Puni na an pagsulit sa daluging tinimakan./Puni na an paghidaw sa mga sinugbang utoban. Terrifying lines as the poet calls us to begin the remembering and also begin the moving out from the room full of tears. In the poet’s mind, the lacrimarum vale or valley of tears had become an intimate area for instigating his own release.

The rhythm is there as in a prayer. But it is no prayer. There is the repetition but it is not a plea. There is the self but it is one that has turned away from itself into something else. That self is one that shall face the recollection of the faith that has been burned.

And yet the poet, resolute when he wants to, loves to sing and hint of fear and anxiety. Even when he is merely observing children playing in the rains, he summons images of terrible beauty. The skies become diklom na pinandon na “may luho” (with hole). From this hole, comes the sarong pisi ki sildang/ tisuhon na buminulos. The poet stays with this metaphor with such intensity that the silken thread coming from the hole justifiably becomes luhang garo hipidon na busay/paluwas sa mata/kan dagom. Dark wit and a penchant for the horrifying are tandem graces in these lines.

This is the poet who can, without self-consciousness, tell us of the …haya/kan mga ayam na namimibi/nakakapabuskad ki barahibo/nakakaulakit ki lungsi. He whispers of “halas na rimuranon, malamti/sa hapiyap kan mga bituon.”
This is a startling universe, where dogs pray (and bay), and where fears bloom and paleness afflicts and infects, and serpents are caressed by the stars.