Poetry Wednesdays

Cebuano Poetry: Jeremiah Bondoc reads “sa menteryo sa carreta dihang nangutana ka og unsaon ang balak sa pagbasa”

Welcome to Poetry Wednesdays on the Sari-Sari Storybooks blog.

As I travel around the Philippines to work on this children’s book series, I’d like to share some of the poets I meet, writing in Cebuano, Waray, Meranao, Hiligaynon, Tagalog and other Philippine languages. I hope you’ll enjoy hearing the multiplicity of Filipino poetry in the world.

We’ll start with Cebuano poet Jeremiah Bondoc (president of Bathalad, a Cebuano poetry organization),who read this back in February 2014, on my last trip here. This is “sa menteryo sa carreta dihang nangutana ka / og unsaon ang balak sa pagbasa” (how a poem should be read you asked me/ at the carreta cemetery).

Check back in on Wednesdays to hear more poets.

SA MENTERYO SA CARRETA DIHANG NANGUTANA KA

OG UNSAON ANG BALAK SA PAGBASA

 

Migilok ang akong kaspa

Kay sa imong pagsikit, kalit kang mihunghong

Ug nangutana kon unsaon man diay

Ang balak sa pagbasa.

Aw kuan—matud ko pa nga nakalitan—

 

Kanang makapaso.

 

Apan dili sama nianang nagdilaab

Nga mga pabilo, kansang kainit,

sa bugnawng marmol mikamang, kon dili,

Sama nianang imong paghunghong, sa paghapyod

Sa imong gininhawa sa punuan sa akong dunggan.

 

Kanang tanlas

 

Sama sa paghagawhaw sa kabugnaw

Nga igo lang mipaka-naas sa mga dahon

Sa kasya diin kita, sa ilawom niini

Mipasilong, mitago 

Sa himantayong mga bitoon.

 

Ah basta

 

Gi-ingnan tika, didto

Sa menteryo sa Carreta,

Taliwa sa milanog nga kahilom,

Sa dayong  pagtak-om

Sa kagabhi-on.

 

— Jeremiah Bondoc

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

(English Translation)

HOW A POEM SHOULD BE READ YOU ASKED ME

AT THE CARRETA CEMETERY

 

An itch stirred at the root of my hair

As you closed in and in a hush,

Asked,

How a poem should be read.

Well—caught off-guard, I said—

 

Should be smoldering.

 

Not so much like these wicks, flaming,

Its fire creeping on the cold marble stone,

But like when you whisper

And the warmth of your breath drifts

Over the lobes of my ear.

 

 Should be smooth

 

Like the hushed blowing of a cold breeze

Causing just a light stirring in the leaves of this acacia tree

Where underneath

We hide ourselves 

From the leering eyes of the stars

 

Well, whatever

 

I said, rather glibly

At the Carreta cemetery

Embraced by a booming silence,

The night

Closing in.

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

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