| poetry
o sa pinaglalanganan na obrang
nakasabit sa lanob kan museo
na mayong man lang naghihiling.
Ini an doot
sa rupit na kahiwasan sa luwas
na nag-aatang kan sadiri
sa nag-aaging mga bitis
na minarikas—o minaontok—
sa saradit na mga bubon
kan tubig-uran na naaalang
pag an aldaw
magpahiling na.
Ini an pagkimat kan mata
sa paghadok kan duros
na minahupa
sa pag-abot kan saro pa—
katoninongan na naribaraw
kan harakhatak kan kaakian
na napasa kan hibi
kan sarong aking nakulgan
kan an sarong sanga mahulog
makalihis na itao kan panahon an
saiyang edad.
Ini an laad kan aldaw
na minaretiro sa daing kasagkoran—
minataong ganan sa kadikloman
na, sa pagkatunaw
sa mga bagay,
ginigibo sindang anino na sana.
Vulnerability
(Author’s Translation)
It has something to do
with a happy song playing
on a sullen morning,
or with a masterpiece,
hanging on a museum wall,
that no one pays to see.
It is the grass
on the sodden field outside
that submits itself
to the passing feet
that hurry—or halt—
upon the rainwater puddles
that dry
once the sun
comes out of hiding.
It is the winking of the eye
upon the kiss of the breeze
that subsides when
another one comes—
a silence that is disturbed
by the laughter of children
broken by the cry
of the one toddler hurt
by the piece of twig fallen
after time gave it its age.
It is the daylight
that surrenders to eternity—
giving way to darkness
which, upon melting
in everything,
reduces it to mere shadow.
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