nameabledays Archive One

Rio Alma's last year's collection, with an Ang Kiukok Christ on the cover (The book, illustrated with reproductions of paintings by National Artist Ang Kiukok, was designed & edited with an introduction by Fidel Rillo; with translations and translator's note by Marne L. Kilates)

In March last year, during another Holy Week, national artist and close friend Rio Alma launched his perhaps 16th book of poems (he launches one, poetry or criticism, every March 9, his birthday). In purple jacket carrying the classic Ang Kiukok stunned-Christ Divino Rostro, the bilingual Sonetos Postumos carried my translations. It is a very strange and complex collection of sonnets, whose perambulations between time periods and territories of meaning transform both our view and memory of our faith, and our present time. I will feature excerpts from Fidel Rillo's penetrating introduction and from mine as translator, offering some views into the use of the form. I select two sonnets (for now) from sixty-one annotations of a pilgrimage to and peregrination around a strange new Holy Land.


SA SINAGOGA

Bago magpasabog, naisip ni Abu:

Bardo ito ng kanyang pagkamartir.
At marahil, muli niyang dinalisay
Ang katwirang matagal nang pinagnilay;
Isinilang siyang ito ang tungkulin.
Hindi siya nagpalalo o nainggit.
Di nag-imbot. Itinugma ang lunggati
Sa nagisna't itinuro. Kasimputi
Ang kaluluwa ng pulburang nasa dibdib.

Ngunit bakit nag-iinit ang sentido?
Bato. Basag na maynika. Intifada.
Amoy-baboy ang paligid! Berde dilaw.
Lumitaw ang mga anghel at demonyo.
Dilaw puti. Ang gatilyo'y nagbabaga.
Dharma mata dharmata. O! Kamatayan...


AT THE SYNAGOGUE

Before exploding, Abu thought:

This was the Bardo of his martyrdom.
Once more, perhaps, he distilled the righteous
Purpose long dwelling in his mind:
For this he was destined. Never arrogant
Nor envious, never selfish, he sought
For every dream rhyme and reason with all
He was taught since birth. Pure and white was his
Soul, like the gunpowder he wore on his chest.

But why was he seething?
Rubble. A broken doll. Intifada.
Everywhere the stink of pigs! Green yellow.
Angels and demons have appeared.
Yellow white. The trigger is red hot.
Dharma mata dharmata. O! Death…


BETHLEHEM

Mabuting di hamak ang pagwawasak ko!

Bayan kong Bethlehem! O, aking Bethlehem!
Iligtas ka kaya ng ginto't kamanyang?
May nagliwanag na sa una mong belen,
Ngunit binulag ka ng iyong kalakhan.

May dapat magbangon ng lumpo at bangkay
Magmula sa matris ng bulok na wika,
Subalit lango ka sa poot at ingay
Ng dasal, trumpeta't bandilang dakila!

May putik at abo ang dila ng pilak:
Hindi tumatagal sa lamig at apoy,
Ang bawat salita'y may alagang ahas,
Nakikipaglaro sa udyok ng simoy.

Bayan kong bethlehem Bethlehem! Kawawang Bethlehem!
Piitan mo't puntod ang tore mong garing!


BETHLEHEM


Ultimately better is the way I destroy!

Bethlehem! O, my Bethlehem!
Will you be saved by gold and frankincense?
Light had shone upon your first manger,
But you’ve grown so big—and blind.

Someone should make the cripple walk,
The dead rise from the rotten womb
Of your tongue, but you are drunk in the anger
And din of prayers, trumpets, great flags!

Mud and ash choke the language of silver:
It will not survive fire and ice,
Each word conceals a treacherous asp,
Dancing to the promptings of the wind.

Bethlehem! My poor Bethlehem!
Your ivory tower is your prison and grave!