HARIBOL SURALISTA

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

EMPLEYADO X

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Sabi ko na saimo. Pag umininum kang Coke, mabalik na naman an. Mga kakanon na bawal saimo, iyan an dilema mo. Pirmi an. May Caffaine an Coke. Pampabungkaras an. Sa gabos na tawo ika an dapat dai mabungkaras. Makinigkigon ka. Nerbyoso. Hilinga an relo, ma-alas-syete na. Dai ka pa makahali sagkod dai napapaandar an xerox machine. Dakulon kang i-xexerox, kaipuhan ni Boss sa aga. Bako ka man takot sa Boss mo, takot ka sa aga. Ta sa aga, kun dai mo ma-xerox ining mga papel, matatakot ka sa Boss mo. Haloy pa garo ini. Nagsisibot na an lawas mo. Alas-syete kinse na. Pirang semana ka nang dai nag-exercise? Duwa na garo. Puon pa kan pagpa-Caramoan. Nagsusuriyaw na an lawas mo: Exercise! Nagpuon ka baga mag-exercise ta muya mo hingalon. Iyan su motibasyon mo. Pagpighihingal ka kaya mas namamate mong naghahangos ka—naghahangos ka pa. Maray an. Dulo na saimong health conscious bordering on acute hypocondriasis. Katakod pa an kan helang. An mga itatao mo kun may sarong pidaso kang Zoloft. Rumdom mo pa an Zoloft? Anom na bulan na langit. Saro sana an memorya mo kan mga maogmang aldaw na ito: an anyil na langit. Kaso ngonian rahay ka na baga daa. Makamisson an pigbubulong, adi? Exercise—pwede daw dumalagan digdi sa highway? Mag-boxers ka sana. Ngani bako ka grabeng garong bua kaysa kun nakapan-opisina ka. May gym bagang harani, walking distance. Dai kang bado? Kaipuhan mananggad an. Fashion—gabos may fashion. Masiramon mag sakat baba sa sanribong tanggang hagyanan, sampulong balik, anom na set, may pasan na 10 lbs na girly dumbbells. Personal na pasakit. Dipisil na magkaigwang surplus na calorie. Baad mabilog na taba kun sain na ugat. Dipisil matiwi. Masupog. Ano na sana taramon kan iba—dai ta an kaya, dulo na an herak. Garo lanang iraramog sa makasupog nang kasusupgan. Importante an taramon kan tawo. Dapat pirmi maray. Dapat pirmi maogma gabos. Habo mong kaiwal. Habo mong kumprontasyon. An takig sa saimong laman, an rarom kan kurabkutab. Habo mo kaan. Kaipuhan pirmi kang relax, kalmado. Daing hassle. Bad an stress. Kaipuhan ipahinang. Stress na arog kaini: bardown an Xerox copier. Mga responsibilidad, mga bagay na nagtatao satong buhay. Buhay, iyan baga su life sa get a life. Kamugtakan. Ano ka sa kinaban. Loser? Major. Pinasulot ki generic na outfit from head to toe buda magturon-turon na garo clown. Cog in the wheel. Haloy ka nang dai nakakainom. An namit kan alak—garo ka nagrumdom ki crush. Sabi sa sarong medical journal delikado daang ma-adik sa alcohol an may helang na arog saimo. Baad daa maadik ka sa bagay na mapa-ogma saimo. Badtrip an masiram na bawal. Iyan nanggad an life sa get a life. Putang Xerox ini. Baad kaipuhan mong magpabasa, utuban si San Benito o Saint Jude nganing umandar. Magayunon garong maging yaon sa ibang lugar. Su dai kang takot. Muya mo magrabas, muya mong mawara. Su dai ki nakakamidbid. Magayon garong sarong aldaw magimata kang dai kang dumanon. Su malakaw sana sa irarom kan aldaw, daing padumanan. Arog kay Sabrit, su bua sa may tulay na nagkadrereds na sana su buhok sa daing pakilabot. Su maglakaw sana, bako sa tinampo, kundi sa laog kan gubot mong payo. Dai na maandar an Xerox na ini. Paulia na man an technician. Bayai na an aga na mamroblema kan gigibuhon niya sa aga. Kun ano man mangyari. Paulia na man an sadiri mo. Patawada na.

Hunyo 8, 2010. Pawa.

 

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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.





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