Translation of HERAK, with Introduction

Today I got another poem from my FB memory. A poem from six years ago. It's about thankfulness but the title is Mercy. My friend Richard told me a few days ago that grace (also his daughter's name) is such a wonderful word because it describes something that is not from this world. Grace from God, or the Divine, as he said it. As i read this poem again, i thought about grace and mercy and thankfulness--they are all interconnected. they describe something that is beyond this realm. like love, when we feel grace, or mercy, or thankfulness, we are as if transformed--reverted back would be more precise-- to our original form. and we get a taste, even for a brief moment, of happiness. for the longest time, i always thought that happiness is like that--a brief gulp of clarity, awe, and feeling of utter security--that nothing matters more. but then it's gone in a while and you're back staring at the grey pavement, waiting for something great to happen.

when i learned from my teacher that everyone of us, are eternally happy, i can't understand it. the idea was so foreign to me that i thought it was just a philosophical thing. when i started chanting the Holy Names, or mantras in japa yoga and kirtan yoga, gradually, this truth became apparent. we, the spirit souls are naturally blissful. but when we came into contact with matter, we were covered up by the modes of material nature, goodness, passion and ignorance. from these, different temperaments rose and drove us to different places and made our consciousness more and more entangled in the world of matter, and in turn made it harder and harder for us to see who we really are. my teacher compared it to a diamond covered with mud. our natural brilliance cannot get through the muck. to cleanse us of this dirt we need a purifier like water. something that is opposite the dirt. in this case something that is the opposite of matter. as dirt cannot nullify dirt, matter cannot be cleansed by matter. we need a cleaning agent that is transcendental to matter.

the transcendental sound vibration of the Holy Names of God are the ultimate purifier of the soul. by chanting the Holy Names our hearts are gradually cleansed of all the dust that we have accumulated from lifetimes upon lifetimes. once this covering in our hearts are removed then we can see and understand more clearly the reality of this world we are presently in. we can also clearly understand our real identity, why we are here, and what is the goal of this life.

My gratitude to my teacher is without measure. He woke me up from a false dream of life, and shown me what it really is. like what Morpheus did to Neo in the Matrix. He opened my darkened eyes and filled my heart with transcendental knowledge. He has given me unconditional mercy, a divine grace. All glories to you Gurudev.

Here's the English translation of the poem:
MERCY

Each morning
Is a mercy from God.
Flowers don’t bloom
For you or for themselves
But simply because.
For all these
May as well cease
Easy as because.
What for then is understanding
Why every breath continues without cause?

To fear the coming
Of the end is of no value
For even now
That destination may
Already be in front of you.
Life can only continue
With a heart free of burden
For God, out of mercy,
Took from you a learning
You don’t need to know.

HERAK

An kada kinaagahan
sarong herak kan Kagurangnan.
Dai nagsusupang an mga burak
para saimo no sa saindang sadiri
kundi malâ,
ta an gabos na ini
kaya man kuta mapundo
dawa sa saro man na malâ.
Kaya para sain pa an pagsabot kun nata
an kada hangos dagos minakusa?

Daing kamugtakan an matakot
kan pag-abot kan hudyan
ta baad ngani ngonian
nasa hampang mo naan kasagkodan na iyan.
Minadanay ka sana
na daing gabat an daghan
ta hinali saimo kan Kagurangnan
sa herak, su pagkaaram
na dai mo man kaipuhan.

Nobyembre 24, 2010. Pawa.

Haribol.

Translation of YAON DIGDI PIGSASARAY AN KATONINUNGAN, with introduction

i thought i’d give my mind a little exercise, so i flexed my brain muscles by translating this poem i came across in the “fb memories.” i recalled writing this poem after burying the body of my father-- or was it my granduncle? Anyway, it was a significant time for me and a great turning point, as it was when i picked up my chanting beads again and continued on the path of spiritual-consciousness.
my literary education forbids me to explain a poem bluntly, but what the heck, i’ll spare a few words at least. if you’re to read the poem, i am in a cemetery, pondering upon tombstones. i have this habit of reading stuff on tombstones and try to extract a story out of each. how could have this person died? she’s too young...on and on. but more interesting for me are those tombstones that are so washed out that the names are wiped off clean by time and weather. and a question of existence assails me. no name, no person? what happens now? it was a very educational experience for me so i was having fun a bit, but this very same situation would’ve been very different if it weren’t for my background in the science of identity.
when i was growing up i always thought that i was the body. so death for me was an extremely claustrophobic thought: i will be cramped up in that cement box until the angels blow their trumpets for resurrection? so i used to look at tombstones with horror, in fact i seldom look at them at all. but with the mercy of my spiritual guide, the most fearless man i know, i was freed from this fear of death and, yes, tombstones. he simply relayed to me the absolute truth that passed down from one saintly teacher to another, a line which can be traced back to God Himself: i am a spiritual spark of God, i am not my body. i am the spirit-soul within that body. the body will die, but i will go on existing. with the strength of knowledge i faced this fear every single moment.
what we fear about death is not so much the pain of death, but the fear of losing the body we identify ourselves with. with the body comes its extensions such as the name, titles, relatives, race, gender, properties, politics etc. no one, no matter how powerful, can resist splitting away from his body though. demons like Hiranyakasipu who performed superhuman austerities just to prolong his stay in his body are in the end forced out, evicted by God Himself from their temporary apartment. and we are persistent. suppose we lose the body eventually, we ask our relatives to preserve that body like what they are doing to President Marcos. incidentally that’s what we also do to pickles, at least one can eat the pickles... but that glass box will have to go someday and that beloved body will succumb to the earth. if we are not as big as Marcos, we settle with just prolonging our name on a marble. here lies so and so...he was loved... and the cemetery is full of these names on stones, full of dates of births and deaths. hold on, hold on. please don’t forget. but time is death’s master, and he will erase all these names from the face of the earth eventually as evidenced by the clear, flawless tomb stones. everything will be forgotten.
the last line of the poem alludes to John Keats’ epitaph that goes: here lies one whose name was writ in water. such a romantic way to fade away. when you have a debt and it is written in water, it means don’t bother to remember it. these names once written in stone but eventually erased by time are now written in water. we spend our lives having our names placed on a piece of paper to be hung on a wall or on a bronze plate at some door. we take care of our name as good as we take care the body connected to that name but in the end it will end up in some stone in the cemetery someday. oh, but not my name, it’s in history books! okay let’s burn all the books. oh, but mine is etched on a colossal statue. smash that statue down. which reminds me of a poem by Keats’ friend Percy Shelley, “Ozymandias”:
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
__________

Nothing material will endure. Nothing perishable will remain.
The body and everything connected with it are all made of matter. Even the name: material sound vibration. therefore we, being spiritual being, cannot take shelter of our material name, or our president’s name, our country’s name, our favorite superhero’s name, even our parent’s name... they will all be written in water, in the river of time.

but there is a name that will never fade away. there is a name that will endure. a name that is not contaminated by any tinge of matter. the Holy Names of the Absolute Truth, the One Supreme Person, are countless: Allah, Jehova, Govinda, Eloi, Krishna, and many more...These Names are etched not only in stone or scribed in scriptures, but most importantly They are kept in the pure hearts of the devotees who spread These Names time after time. you can take shelter of These Names, for they are incorruptible by time and death, in fact the Holy Name is time Himself in this material realm. simply by chanting These Names, we will be freed from the ignorance exemplified by our hankering to glorify our own lusterless names in stone. thank you very much for bearing the long intro. so here’s the poem:

English translation:
Here lies peace. In stone chests
confined are the breathless hopeful to breathe
again. In the end neither bone nor ash will remain of the ashen
but names, when they were still objects, like us
chiseled on marble, written by paint or molded bronze.
Such anxiety of being forgotten, when oblivion is guaranteed end!
Look at the perfect faded stones. Only these are what's real here.
Realizing that everything akin to the dirt will be food for serenity.
All that is uttered that will remind of warm days and places
will be appropriately called with sound acceptable to silence
All will be given a name written in water.

10-14-16
Karangahan

Bikol:
Yaon digdi pigsasararay an katoninungan. Sa mga gapong baul
Dai makahangos an mga nakalaom na naglalaom na makahangos
Gilayon. Ngapit bako tu’lang o abo an matatadang gira kan mga napara
Kundi mga apod, kan sinda mga bagay pa, arog satuya,
Nakatigib sa marmol, kinurit kan pintura o pinormang bronse.
Kaniguan an hadit na dai marumduman dawa kalingawan an siguradong sagkodan.
Hilinga an perpeksiyon kan mga pulinas na gapo. Ini man sana an totoo digdi.
Patotoo na gabos digding may labot sa kinaban pagkaon kan katoninungan.
Gabos na sina’wod na maparumdom kan mga maimbong na aldaw buda lugar
Tatawan ki nagkakanigong apod na aakuon kan kawa’ran ki tanog,
Gabos bubunyagan ki mga ngaran na nakasurat sa tubig.

10-14-2011. Karangahan.

KAGAYONAN

An satuyang kagayonan
Bako sa tulang buda laman
Siring kan dagang natitimakan
Ini mapapara sa hudyan.

An kagayunan uya sa daghan
An burabod na gikan kan kamarayan.
Magayunon na kalag ika uya diyan
Kataning an Diyos na gikan kan kagabsan.

11/9/16. Karangahan.

NEWSFEED

Me nagbertdey, 
me namatay, 
me pinatay, 
me inilibing,
me naospital humihingi ng amen,
me nananakot ng gera,
me naakit sa hita,
me nagalit sa pagkakita,
me problema si ganito sa ganyan,
me problema si ganyan sa ganito,
me problema ka, me problema tayo
me, me, me, ako, ako, ako.
Oo ako ang problema
Kasi wala akong solusyon.
Nangangalit ang aking mga puna
Pero lumpo ang aking aksyon.
Bago nagulo ang mundo
Nagulo muna ako.
Ako ang problema
Ako ang ugat ng sakuna.
Kahit saan umabot
ang gulo'y dala ko.
Gulong-gulo ako
Di ko alam ang dahilan
Nakatawa ako sa pityuran
Pero gumugulong ako sa higaan.
Utak ko'y puno ng katanungan
Puso ko'y walang laman
Kasi wala naman talaga akong alam
At ang mga katotohanan ko'y hashtag lamang
Wala akong alam
Kasi di ko alam
Na ang puno't dulo ng dahilan
Ay ang kawalan ko ng alam.
Kung sino ako
Ano ako
At ang tunay kong katauhan.

11/9/16. Karangahan.

KulTVision

Huwag magpalinlang 
sa mga kulto ng kasalukuyan.
Karamihan sa mga ito'y
nagbihis na ng kaanyuan.

Huwag nang hanapin
sa liblib na kanayunan--
sa modernong tahanan,
hayan, sa kahong aliwan
ang kanilang pinagkukutaan.

Hindi na hukluban
ang supremong yinayapos
ngayo'y may alindog at tikas
ang halinang dinudiyos.

Paso na ang birtud
ng mga Lating orasyon,
mga pangalang pinagtambal
ang idolong engkantasyon.

Imbes murang musmos
ang kinakatay sa altar,
ang kakayahang mag isip
ang kinikitil sa ritwal.

Yumi at hiya ang nagpalit
sa birheng ginagahasa;
libog at ilusyon
ang bagong poon
sa dambana.

At ang mga talisman
singdami ng kunwari'y kailangan:
pampakinis, pampabango,
pampatigas, pampalango.
Pinagtibay ng debosyon
Sa usong superstisyon:
Huwag lang shampoo
kailangan may conditioner
Huwag lang powder
kailangan may fabric softener.
Vetsin pa more sa timplang fastfood store.
Ngayong panahon ng pasikipan,
kailangang sumabay sa bawat inobasyon
ng pasador.

At kahit ano pa ang iyong sinasabi
Lahat nakasalalay sa puti ang iyong
Ngipin, kutis at kili-kili.

Kung nagtataka ka
Kung gaano karami na sila
Madaling lamang makilala
ang kanilang mga deboto:

Sila ang mga naengkanto
Ng sariling telepono.

Oktubre 2016

PANTASYANG BAYAN

"inaalay ko sa aking mga guru na nagturo sa akin ng totoong pag-ibig."

Inilibing ang isang demonyo bilang santo. At nakiramay ang buong sambayanan na kanyang inapi, ninakawan, inalipusta, sinaktan, binawian ng mahal sa buhay. Sa paanan ng hukay, bago ito tabunan, isa-isa silang dumungaw, at sa tangang bulaklak na puti may ibinulong na panalangin. Pagkatapos ilalag ang bulaklak sa hukay ay tumungo sila sa mga luhaang naulila at ihinandog ang natatanging larawan ng kanilang anak, magulang, asawa, kaibigan na nagdusa sa kamay ng patay. May bibigkasin silang maikling mensahe ng pakikiramay--madalas ay "sa dulo ng paglimot, tuloy ang buhay"-- bago umalis. Nang natapos ang lahat nang dumalo sa kanilang pakikiramay, ang hukay ng nabubulok nang labi ay napuno ng bulaklak--hindi na ito kailangang tabunan ng lupa, at ang patong-patong na larawan na naibigay ay lagpas tao ang taas--ganuon karami sana ang kamatayan na dapat danasin ng tagapaslang base sa hustisya ng kalupaan, subalit walang lugar sa puso ng mga mamayan ang pait o galit dahil ito'y umaapaw sa wagas na kaligayahan na tanging nagmumula lamang sa pag-ibig na hinuhugot malayong-malayo sa mundong ito.

11/19/16. Karangahan

Boomerang

Nagkakanigo an gabos na sakit na sinapar ko.
Kulog kan tuhod, ngipon na raot, guramoy na dai natitiko.
Saradit sanang bagay kun ikukumpara sa kulog na idinulot sa kinaban.
Pigsasawod ko an Saimong Ngaran, an isip ko nalilinigan.
An pagkaisi nabubutas sa pakakupo sa sadiri,
dangan mahiling kun ano an enot dai nagkamaraanan.
Kinulog ko siya sa sadit na bagay na ini.
Pinalaom. Linaom sa banggi o mga banggi ki paghidaw o punaw.
Dangan ngonian, napumpong na daw su haldat,
su ngirhat? Kun gurano garo su sakong dai pagkaisi
kan nangyari saiya, iyo man ito su rarom kan lugad.
Sinapar niya, ninda, ito. Kaya naman sana may bigla na sana
minatadok sa sakong daghan, dai ko makua kun hali sain
o kisay. Bungag sa likudan, matarom na tataramon. Gabos palan ini
badil na pinaputok mantang nakapiyong.
Solamenteng an naggiya sa kulog na naglalayog sa paros
pasiring sa iiguon iyo su sakuya man sanang daan na gibo.

Ako Pukawa

Ako nangaturugan
Sa sarong pangaturugan
Ki tulong kakanon.

Nahiling ko su saro
Kulor puti, su saro kulor dugo
Su saro diklom.

Lambang tuludan
Tulo an kagdara
Su saro karahayan
Su saro kamawotan
Su saro kawaran.

Pinarong ko, su saro
Burak. Su saro sulo,
Su saro udo.

Kan tinanan ko, su saro
Mahamis, su saro maharang
Su saro maranggis.

Ako nakakataram
Na ako nagkakan
sa sarong pangaturugan
Mantang nasa sarong pangaturugan
Ngonian na ako na gimata,
Ta mantang itoon duman
Ako warang pagkaaram
Kun nata daing kabasugan
Dawa paburubalyo sa tulong plato.

Pero ako ngonian mata
Sa sarong pangaturugan sana.
Aram kong ako turog pa
Ta digdi sa sakong minuklatan
Ako nag-inom sa salog
Sa burabod, sa bubon
Pero dai nahahali
An sakuyang paha.

3.24.2015

"An solusyon sa satuyang paha, iyo kun masasabutan ta kun SIISAY an napapaha. Kaipuhan tang magimata."

Ang Alipin

Nakalimutan ko nang magutom simula pa kahapon; Sinusubukan kong kalimutang mauhaw hanggang ngayon. Dahil ang diyos na nagsuot sa akin ng kadena ay nakalimot na ako ay kanya at siya lamang ang aking pag-asa. Sa lakas ng tawa niya sa harap ng tunog ng tawanan di niya marinig ang aking tawag. Nang magdilim ang kanyang tuluyan at tumahan ang tirahan, tumawag ako. At marahil isa pa o dalawa. Ngunit marahil ikinumot niya na ang gabi, ang dilim, at ang katahimikan. 

Alam kong may isa pang diyos. At nakatira siya sa kabilang ibayo. Sa likod ng pader na may bubog na sibat at ahas na tinik. Sa loob ng kanyang sangtwaryo ang bakal niyang setro na bumubuga ng tingga at apoy, tulog na halimaw na naghihintay na kalabitin. Mahirap makalimot habang naririto sa loob ng katawan, kailangan kong makakalas at parang ito na lamang ang tanging paraan. Tatawagin ko siya, hanggang igawad niya sa akin ang kanyang awa sa anyo ng kalayaan mula dito sa nagdurusang lalagyan. 

Sa Saodan

Kan ika la'bas pa

dai ka lamang naghaloy

sa barakalan. 

Dai ka tinawadan

kan nagbakal saimo

pati su uli biyo

nagkarilingwan. 

Pero sa hudyan

binalik ka sa timbangan:

anas ka sana daa laogan. 

Udto na sa saodan.

Patapos na su barakalan. 

Sa kada paghiro kan oras

an kantidad naiinaan. 

Sisay pa daw mangangaipo?

Sisay an may kulang?

Solamenteng mga ayam

an naghahalat sa irarom kan papag 

sa itatarapok sa basurahan. 

Bangging Nobyembre

Pasang bote an bituon

na an kimlat de koryente

sa diklom haloy sabuton

an naglalataw na babayi

na may bestidang puti

palan rambong kan pili

sa banaag kan harayong poste.