NORTHERN LUZON LITERATURE

NALPAY A NAMNAMA BLASTED HOPES

Leona Florentino
Amangan a ragsac ken talecda
dagiti adda cayanayatda
ta adda piman mangricna
cadagiti isuamin a asugda.
Ni gasatco a nababa
aoanen ngatat capadana,
ta cunac diac agduadua
ta agdama ngarud nga innac agsagaba.
Ta nupay no agayatac
iti maysa a imnas
aoan lat’ pangripripiripac
nga adda pacaibatugac.
Ilunodconto to horas
nga innac pannacayanac
ta mamenribo coma a naseseat
no natayac idin ta nayanacac.
Gayagayec coma a ipalaoag,
ngem bumdeng met toy dilac
a ta maquitac met sibabatad
nga ni pay ti calac-amac.
Ngem umanayento a liolioac
ti pannacaammon itoy a panagayat,
ta icaric kenca ket isapatac
nga sica aoan sabali ti pacatayac
What gladness and what joy
are endowed to one who is loved
for truly there is one to share
all his sufferings and his pain.
My fate is dim, my stars so low
perhaps nothing to it can compare,
for truly I do not doubt
for presently I suffer so.
For even I did love
The beauty whom I desired
never do I fully realize
that I am worthy of her.
Shall I curse the hour
when first I saw the light of day
would it not have been better a thousand times
I had died when I was born.
Would I want to explain
but my tongue remains powerless
for now do I clearly see
to be spurned is my lot.
But would it be my greatest joy
to know that it is you I love,
for to you do I vow and a promise I make
it’s you alone for whom I would lay my life.
Translation by: M. Foronda, Jr.
 PANGASINAN LITERATURE
SAY NGARAN MO
Magno Ventura Cornel
Diad wangalan na palbangon
nen kalabian
tinmaew lamuet
so maimues mon lupa
ed pantok na kasamitay uguip ko
insan sinmukiab so pelnak na liwayway
katuwa-an ya kayarian mo so pusok
ed agbalot inkobot ya panag-ibueg
tan pangaro
balet, akin inaro et onia lan naynay
so inter mon dusay pusok
ya diad oras-oras tan amin ya momento
et puro sika lambengat
so walad gili-giling tan kapeglayan
na kasamitay
panbitlak na magalang ya ngaran mo.
YOUR NAME
Magno Ventura Cornel
On the threshold of dawn
last night
surfaced again
your smiling face
in the depths of my sweetest slumber
then fleshed that ray of light
delighted that you own my heart
in never undisguised admiration and love
but, why love is it always like this
what you gave as punishment of my heart
that at every hour and every moment
are in the periphery and the midst of the
sweetest
mention of your cherished name.
Translated by: Perla Nelmida
 PAMPANGA LITERATURE
BURI KUSA
Aurea N. Balagtas
Buri ku sa ing mabandi;
king kanawan magkabyayan,
dapot nung kasaman daku
ding kasamak king laultan
buri kusa ing maluka
magkabye king pipauasan.
Buri ko sang mariposa
king bulaklak limpad-limpad,
dapot uli ning bulu ra
buri ku pang e akakit
ing linang da ampon sampat.
Buri ku sa maging musa
ban samban na ning poeta,
dapot ning kaybat na niti
ibye na pawang palmara
buri ku pang ena samban
nung kaybat pakiaka’na.
Buri kusa ing Menila
masigla ya at masaya
dapot nung itang legwan na
pagkait na king maluka
buri kepa laksang libu
ing irug kung balen Wawa.
I DESIRE
I should want to be wealthy,
to live in luxury,
but if I were hated
by tenants in the fields,
I prefer to be poor
living on the fruit of my sweat.
I should want butterflies
flitting among flowers
but because of their powdery scales,
I prefer not to enjoy seeing
their charm and beauty.
I should want to be a muse
to be worshipped by a poet,
but if afterwards
I shall receive nothing but nagging,
I prefer not to be worshipped
if I shall later be made to cry.
I should want Manila
where there is noise and happiness
but if its beauty
is not for the humble,
I prefer ten million times
My beloved town Guagua.
(1936)
Translated by: Evangelina Hilario-Lacson
CENTRAL & SOUTHERN LUZON LITERATURE

OYAYING TAGALOG
Virgilio Almario

Tulad ng dagat,
Paulit-ulit at panatag ang mga paraiso
Ng bukirin at mga kumpol ng kubo,
Nakabalot sa nanginginig na pawid,
May batik ng putakti’t salagubang,
Nagtatalalan
Sa pilat ng lindol at pilik ng panaginip.
Pagkatapos ng malakas na ulan,
Mabigat at inaantok ang buong kapatagan
At lumilikom ng gamut
Ang mga payak na lagundi’t kulasiman.
Paminsan-minsang tumatawid sa langit
Ang ilang matamlay na bagwis;
Nilulumot at lungayngay
Ang mga baradong utong ng bulkan.

Tulad ng dagat,
Paulit-ulit ang landas ng mga lalawigan
Ng isip: mga kuwento ng kapre’t aswang,
Pulutgata ng sundang at buwan,
Agimat mula sa puso ng saging,
Ang mga diwatang masintahin
Ng Arayat, Banahaw, at Makiling,
Ang aral sa nasayang ng bayabas
At alimango
O kung bakit may kiping kay San Isidro.
Pinatutulog maaga ang mga paslit
Upang gumising sa nakamihasnang
Dalit ng buhay at kundiman ng pag-ibig.
Iniwi sa ganito
Sina Balagtas, Rizal at Bonifacio.
 BICOL LITERATURE
RECUERDOS
Jazmin Llana
Nagiromdoman ko ining mga pampang
Sa pagparasunod ki alibangbang
O makolor na gamgam
Pirang beses akong nahulog digdi
Pinatos nin dugi, paramientras
Na su pigsusunod nagsasayaw
Na minadulag, nagtutugdon sa puro
Kan mga gogon sa agihan,
Garu baga pigsasabi: hala, sige
Dipisil talagang magdakop nin ugma.
Kan aki pa ako, paghona ko
Samuya pati su mga suso sa uma,
Mala ta pirmi kaming naggugulay nin kangkong
Pigsusupsop an kasiraman kan kinaban
Sa kada bangot, abaang siram!
Paghona ko samuya si daga –
Mala ta nagsisiriwik an mga gamgam
Sige an reklamo ta pati tada sa pag-ani
Pigsisimot ming mga aki,
Dai bale nang magkarulugad sa hapros
Kan mga tadang dahon nin paroy.
Ngunian, kiripot na ining mga pangpang:
Lalong nagrereklamo an mga gamgam,
Nagralayog sinda sa ibong na kadagaan
Na pigkudalan na nin mga titulo
Asin armas panggadan-
Talagang dipsil magdakop nin katanosan!
MEMORIES
I well remember these banks
Where I would often stumble and fall
In my pursuit of butterflies
Or brightly colored birds.
I would be covered with dirt while
My quarry danced
And flew away to light
On the grass by the wayside,
As if saying: come on, don’t give up
For truly, happiness is hard to catch.
When I was a child, I thought
We owned even the snails on the farm
Which we would often cook with kangkong
And suck out the sweetness of the world
From every shell, oh what delight!
I thought the land was ours-
The birds would cry out
In protest as we children gleaned
The remnants of the harvest,
Not minding if we were cut and scratched
By the remaining palay leaves.
Now the banks have narrowed:
The birds’ cries are more intense
For the people have nothing more to eat.
I can no longer run after
Butterflies or brightly colored birds,
They have flown to the fields
Now fenced by titles
And deadly weapons-
Truly, justice is hard to catch.
Translation by T.E. Erestain
 NORTHERN LUZON LITERATURE

ITI DAYTOY A PAGILIAM 1987

Peter La Julian ITI DAYTOY A PAGILIAM

Sadin’ ti yanmo idi intag-ay ni Kabunian Where were you when Kabunian raised
ti kanigid nga imana his left hand
Ket impaulogna dagiti bendision and decreed blessings
Iti daga? upon the land?

Adu ti imparabuma He bestowed a lot of gifts

Adu ti pagarian nga imparangkapna: Many kingdoms he gave away:
Acupan, John Hay, Dole, Acupan, John Hay, Dole,
Del Monte, Procter and Gamble, Del Monte, Procter and Gamble,
Isetann, Robinson, Hilton, Isetann, Robinson, Hilton,
William Lines, Stanfilco, Williams Lines, Stanfilco,
Forbes, Jardin and Davis. Forbes, Jardin and Davis.

Paspasdek a nangalikubkob kenka Enclaves that wall you out

Iti mismo a nakayanakam a daga. Right in the country
Of your birth.
Ket ti patneng a Juda nagkamang
Kadagiti adayo a siudad it narayna And the native Judas fled
Dagiti tallopulo a bagi ti pirak To far-away cities fleeing
Dagiti pannakikamalalana intarayna With thirty pieces of silver
Dagiti minas dagiti pultak Of his harlotry fleeing
A bantay a ti pagbanaganda With the fat of the naked
Kastoy ti Ipil-Cunig- Mountains whose fate
binaybay-anda— Is sealed like Ipil-Cunig-
Iti gayadan ti Cordillera They raped her, abandoned her-
At the foothills of Cordillera
Naingel ti arak nga impainomda
Naingel ti apro nga inlaokda Heady was the drink they gave you
Dagiti ganggagannaet a didiosen Bitter is the mixture of bile
Agkatkatawada iti imeng ti kuarto The expatriate gods
Dagiti pagturayanda. Are laughing in the inner sanctum
Of the domain.

Translated by the Author

 PANGASINAN LITERATURE

POZORRUBIO
Watus R. Solis

Ambalangan Bubon
Nanlapad Cainaan to RED WELL
Sa danum na bilay
Mangiter na maong tan linaoa
Ed laman na dumaralos tan mamaestra, In its bosom flowed
Mangipaparti’y casaganaan The water of life
Parad maanin caumaan. Giving comfort to tired, aching
Bodies of toilers and teachers,
Diad loob ton aralem Offering infinite subsistence
Oalay balitoc ton nanengneng To its thriving earth.
Mangaalagar na mulin icayanao
Na singa bilay caruman a macainan mareen Within its cavernous depths
Nen melag labat so abong na totoo Are ripples of weal
Tan simsimple so bisbisyo, Waiting to be reborn
Nen say dalan mapitec Like a past so slow and mellow
Tan say luluganan guyod-guyod When men lived in plain homes
Na maingal ya duweg And simple vices,
Nen say reen na labi metagey When roads are dirt
Campanan manbatangtang ed casantosan And conveyances pulled
Tan amin ontondan onyoco By waiting beasts
Ontaoag ed Dios na totoo. When silence of dusk was broken
By sounds of angelical bells
Aya, naimano’y saquey ya bubon And everyone stood still
Ya mareen tan mabunyi To beseech their God.
Lapud say daboc na pitec ton
Cadasquey ya ginaoan bato These, witnesses by a well
Sim-mubol so totoon In silence and pride
Disiplinado tan maaro. For every grain of clay
Molded into each brick
Sicaton say pundasyon to acaligen Flowed springs of eternal generations
Ed masaganan dalin Of gentle and disciplined men.
Apalabas to’y daquel ya taon
Ed maermen ya anos. And so its foundation laid
On the fertile earth
(CCP’s Ani Publication, 1992) And years passed her by
In placid acceptance.
 PAMPANGA LITERATURE

ING BIE ALANG BAKAS A LIFE WITHOUT TRACE

Jose M. Gallardo

I have reached the end

Miras ku king wakas of the road
ning kanakung landas what do I find…? A grave in a black
nanu ing disan ku…? Kutkutan yang shroud.
paldas.
The only mark
my life has left;
Ing bukud nang bakas A body in decay, a naked shadow.
ning bie kung milabas:
dildil yang merunul; anino yang lubas. No matter how I look into my life,
I find that my labors have been
in vain, all has been filure.
Nanan ke mang liswan So this is life
king kakung miralan, in this world
ala kung malino bungang pipagalan the impotent act leads to nothingness.
Pane ngang kabigwan
ing makalarawan The only mark
karing bulung’na ning bye kung of one’s past life
melakwan. is a skull nobody would even bother to
pick
up and cover with earth.
Makanyan panan’da
ing mye king masala (1974)
ing baug a dapat muli ngan king ala.
Ing bukud mung tanda
king bye mung mewala Translation by Rosalina Icban-Castro

bungo yang e ra man daklutan, ipala.

PAMPANGA LITERATURE
Miss Phathupats
by: Juan Crisostomo Soto
(1) The face of a young woman named Miss
Yeyeng is full of lipstick and make-up. They say
his parents were born in the remote part of
Pampanga, in its smallest town. Thus, Miss
Yeyeng is a Filipina from head to toe, and even
the extremity of her hair, she is a
Kapampangan.
(2) Because of poverty, they sell cooked food to
earn a living. Miss Yeyeng could be seen with a
load in her head some “ginataan” or “bitso-
bitso” or donut in the gambling dens. She
turned into a young lady with no chance to
change her life’s condition.
(3)The revolution was over. The military
government of America opened a school and
here, the American soldiers were sent to teach.
Miss Yeyeng, not yet a lady at that time,
happened to have a regular costumer who is a
soldier. She was enticed by the soldier to attend
his class so that they would be able to
communicate better. In their conversation, the
soldier speaks English while Miss Yeyeng speaks
Kapampangan, so she was forced to study.
(4) After a few months, Miss Yeyeng already
speaks English. Over eight months, with the
encouragement of the soldier, she was sent to
teach to the other town.
(5) When she was teaching there, the town’s
folk were much amazed with her because she
speaks English better than them.
(6) That was how time passed by. Then, Miss
Yeyeng seldom spoke Kapampangan because
she said she forgot the language already.
According to her, Kapampangan is stiff and her
tongue is twisted whenever she uses it, so she
could never speak it straightly anymore and she
stammers when she does so.
(7) People who know much about her shrugged
off their shoulders upon hearing her. And so,
they changed her name into a lurid and stinking
"Miss Phathupats," a name derived from her
wide hip which is forced to fit in a very tight
pencil cut skirt that made her no less than that
of a “patupat” or “suman sa ibus” tightly
wrapped in a banana leaf.
(8) Since then, this is the name they branded
her, forgetting permanently Yeyeng, her sweet
nickname. Her name Miss Phathupats became
so popular.
(9) Life went on as usual. Soon, Ing
Emangabiran, a highlander Kapampangan
newspaper in Bacolor circulated. In a festival or
entertainment program in town X, wherein Miss
Phathupats attended, this newspaper was read.
She came close to the reader, but when she saw
that it is written in Kapampangan, she pouted
slightly, and said.
(10) "Mi no entiende el Pampango." (“I do not
understand Kapampangan.”
(11) "Mi no entiende ese Castellano, Miss," (“I
Also do not understand Spanish, Miss.”) also
said by a prank, varying his tone.
(12) All folks in the crowd smiled, and because
they are refined, they did not show wariness to
the lady. However, this girl, even though she
feels that they are already teasing her, went on
and said:
(13) "In fact, I really find difficulty to speak in
Kapampangan especially when I read it."
(14) With these few words she uttered came all
different vulgar words from English, Spanish.
Tagalog that she mixed without meaning. Those
who heard her had not prevented themselves:
they laughed out loud.
(15) Miss Phathupats became angry, she faced (29) "Mi no vuelve en esta casa."
them and said:
(30) "Goodbye, Miss who doesn’t know
(16) "Porque reir?" Kapampangan!"

(17) "Por el tsampurado, miss," said the first to
respond.
(18) This made the laughter even louder and
Miss Phathupats felt warm.
(19) One of those who are standing said.
(31) "Goodbye, Miss Alice Roosevelt!"
(32) "Goodbye, Miss Phathupats!"
(33) That was how she was humiliated by all of
them, and poor Yeyeng left mumbling like a
fool.

(20) "You should not wonder if Miss Phathupats
doesn’t know Kapampangan anymore: First, she
has been with the American soldier for a long
time: second, she’s not a Kapampangan,
anymore. In fact, Miss Phathupats is her name.
(34) There are many Miss Phathupats today.
They do not know Kapampangan or they are
ashamed of Kapampangan because they can
already speak Carabao English.

(21) This was when the volcano exploded. A

very loud explosion, Miss Phathupats was so
angry that from her mouth came the flames of
Vesubiyo or all the filthy words in Kapampangan
brought together in a burning crater.

(22) "Shameless! Thief! Poisonous! Son*#@!,"

said in the Kapampangan language.

(23) "Well, she’s a Kapampangan anyway!" said

the listeners.

(24) "Yes, don’t you know?" Said someone who

knows her. "She's the daughter of Godiung
Pakbong who is my town mate."

(25) There was again another loud laughter

from the listeners. Miss Phathupats wept and as
she wiped her tears came along the thick
powder on her cheeks. Her natural color was
revealed, darker than a “duhat” (Black plum or
java plum). When they saw this, the more that
they laughed at her and said:

(26) "Oh my, I can’t believe she’s black!"

(27) “Your right, she’s an American Niger!"

(28) Yells, claps, laughter was heard. Miss

Phathupats was not able to endure this. She
stumbled as she went out and said: