HARIBOL SURALISTA

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

SA NATAD

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Monday, February 28, 2011

Sinurat para sa kaaldawan ni Caren ngonian na Hulyo 8, 2010.

Tree of Life. Klimt.

Pakamata niya buda nahiling niya an bagong lalang sa saiyang atubangan, huna niya nakadungaw siya sa tubig. Pero dai man ki tubig; itinao na saiya su pighahagad niya kan boses sa panganoron. Dai ining kaagid sa mga pig-aataman niyang mga hayop sa natad, kundi mas kaarog siya. Inapod niya ining BABAYI, buot sabihon hali ini saiya.

Igwa na siyang kairiba; dai nang mga banggi kan ori pag an lambang ataman niyang hayop magkapades na nawawara sa diklom. Igwa na siyang kairiba. 

Laen sa pagmangno niya sa saiyang mga ataman na piggigiyahan niya kun sain maduman, mati niyang nagkakanigong buhian sana an babayi sa kun ano an muya kaining gibuhon. Pighihiling niya sana ini sa harayo; ini sana kaogmahan na para saiya. Pero bilang matua sa lugar na ito, linibot niya man su babayi sa natad. Itinuro niya su gabos na apod sa mga hayop buda tinanom. Buda mala natanaan niya na an gabos na namit, pinatana niya sana sa babayi su masiram buda pwedeng karaonon na prutas buda dahon—may nalingawan siyang unabihon.

Nag-ogma sinda sa lambang saro, saksi diyan an mismong tataramon na pigheras-herasan ninda sa magdamlag na huron sa irarom kan mga bituon. Daing iba para sainda kundi sinda, duman sa lugar kun sain gabos madali buda magayon.

Kaya sarong aldaw, kan itinangro saiya kan babayi an dai dapat na bunga sa kahoy na rimuranon—daing pagkaaram, solamenteng sa kamawotan kaining iuli an nakukuang pagmakulog—inako niya ini, dawa hudong, ta dai niya kayang raoton sa pagsayuma an enot na pagpahiling kan babayi ki pagpadaba.

Mantang naglalakaw sinda paluwas sa enkantadong natad na saindang minundagan kun sain gabos makulor buda ma-ogma, pasiring sa mara buda marumirom na rona kun sain may kagadanan buda pagsakit, pinahiling niya sa babayi na dai siyang pagbasol na iuli sa boses sa langit an buhay na daing kasagkodan, na dai siya nauraw sa nawara nindang ulian. Sa hampang kan daga na kaipuhan nindang bungkalon, sa kadlagan na kaipuhan nindang pagaruon, nagibo niya pa, sa pagpara sa hadit kan babayi, na umulok buda sabihon na magayon an mabuhay. Ta sa pagkamuot baga nakaukod sinda, arog satuyang nakaukod sainda, kun pano magbilog ki paglaom, naukdan nindang hanapan na sana ki gayon, kaysa basulon, an mga dai na kayang salbaron.

 

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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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