Haribol Suralista: October 02, 2011

AN PANGANGAIPO KI KUDAL

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Saturday, October 08, 2011 comments (0)

Magayon kuta an daing kudal na kinaban, ugaring nangingiturugan kita kun iisipon tang plos kamarayan an kinaban. Halimbawa nagtanom ka ki burak, turutadtaod kukuspaan o titi'makan. Dangan mataram pag saimong sinita, "kasuarin naging maraot maglutab o maglakaw? Buhi baga an satong rona."

Magayon kuta an daing kudal na kinaban, ugaring kaipuhan-- dulo na kun an kadaklan igamit na armas buda sagang an katalingkasan.

SAUDAN KAN ARAM

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Friday, October 07, 2011 comments (0)

An sisay na muya magtaram-surat, magleksiyon, magsilot manungod sa buhay, katotoohan, katanosan, kaipuhan maglugom ngona sa katawohan. Tumindog ki haloy sa tahaw kan saudan, aramon an presyo kan bagas, kun sain pigbabakal an mga nagpapasiram sa kaonon, masidan an nagpapatoron sa kanto kataning kan naka-orange na traffic enforcer, an mga pandok na dai mo midbid pero aram mong pag-iriba, dangogon an totoong tingog kan tawo, makisu'suan, makiduotan, makisa'gidan sa mga lawas na minabilog kan banwaan. Dangan sana.

PADABA KO AN MGA LUMA

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Thursday, October 06, 2011 comments (0)

Ta dai man makaptan an lumang oras
Nag-aging parong, paros o hinangos
Padaba ko an mga bagay na luma.

Ining lumang dyaryong luway nagbabalyo
Ining lumang tarpolin naglalayog sagin
Yaon sinda aram ko, kan yaon ka sa lumang kaito.

La’bas ining paabot na uran, habo ko
Hidaw ko daing huraw na uran sa ritrato
Wagas an ba’gong ulok sa mahalnas na tinampo,
Naiinot mapara kan lumang ulok mo sa payo ko.

Urualdaw mga ba’gong kulibat,
Luma kong daghan piggigiat,
Dai ninda aram puso ko ogma
Sa mga lumang kutok buda arat.

Oktubre 5, 2011. Karangahan.

Kay Jaime Bongot Borlagdan 1952-2011

Pagmukna ki Multo

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Monday, October 03, 2011 comments (0)

Igwa daw talaga? Igwa daw talagang posibilidad na dai magsamba. Kaining mga multo, kaining relihiyon kan kapu'ngawan. An paghigot kan tikab, sa kada pagkaaram. Sa kasiguraduhan na igwa nang nawara. Na an nawalat na gira, mas totoo na kaysa sa naggibong gira.

Pagmukna ki Mito

Posted by Jai Jesus Uy Borlagdan Sunday, October 02, 2011 comments (0)

Kun ritrato ka na sana o sarong ngaran, buda an lawas mo nabibilog na sana kan mga osipon, naglalakaw ka sa kinaban mala sa pagtubod. An mga nagkawaralat mo nagtutubod na nahiling ka ninda, nakairibanan, nakaputan, o nakahuron. Yaon siring sainda, arog kan gapo na ini o an burak na an.

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.