‘Far from the Madding Crowd’
Rummaging through my files during these lockdown days recently, I realized how isolation—and solitude permeated my works in verse through the years.
Looking at these Bikol rawitdawit (poem) which I penned in various instances and in the midst of different circumstances and apprehensions, I am amazed by how isolation seems to permeate these lines but also figures as the more preferable alternative.
Just like in this new normal when #alone and #away is better—as in, “far from the madding crowd,” solitude looms large in three poems.
In the first one, which is a tirade of a modern appliance the telephone, Sa Telepono, I invoke how Frank Kafka and T.S. Eliot, two icons of modernity, despised the monotony and life, sending them pout of the cloistered conveniences, to pursue and achieve something beyond themselves.
Reading their works through the years, I was enamoured by how they used solitude and isolation for their purposeful art. This poem ends rather comically, invoking the spirit and sensibility of the Great Bard William Shakespeare.
Sa Telepono
Huna mo kun siisay ka; nakatiwangwang
sana baga sa ibabaw kan lamesa;
mayong pakiaram sa opisina.
Alagad an matuod, pastidyo ka
sa mga kadakul ginigibo. Mayo ka
man talagang sirbi sa gustong magtrabaho.
Sa hiling ko, tinuwadan ka ni Kafka.
Pagkalayas niya sa opisina, saka niya
nanuparan si Gregor Samsa, sarong kalag
na nabangkag por dahil sa hungkag
sarong aga, naging sarong kuratsa.
Liniudan ka guro ni Eliot; maghapon
dai ka inintindi sa bangko. Nom!
Nagpatuyatoy pasiring sa imprenta;
dangan nagparapanlamuda.
Ano daw kun magtanog ka na,
tapos an makadangog ngaya saimo
si William Shakespeare, ano man
daw an sasabihon niya: Hellurrr!!!
Translation: Sa Telepono
Akala mo kung sino ka, nakatiwangwang lang ba
sa ibabaw ng mesa; walang pakialam sa opisina.
Subalit ang totoo, perwisyo ka sa maraming ginagawa
Wala ka naman talagang silbi sa gustong magtrabaho
Sa tingin ko, tinalikuran ka ni Kafka. Paglayas niya
sa opisina, saka niya nasalubong si Gregor Samsa,
isang kaluluwang hungkag dahil isang umaga,
natagpuan nito ang sariling isa nang kuratsa.
Inirapan ka marahil ni Eliot; maghapon
hindi ka pinansin sa bangko. Tumalilis ito
papunta sa bahay-imprenta; at pagkatapos
ay nagmura nang nagmura.
Ano kaya kung tumunog ka, at ang makarinig
nito’y si Shakespeare, ano naman kaya
ang sasabihin niya: Hellurrr!!!
The second piece, “Catigsan, 1981” draws from my own experience of being horrified by being alone in my younger years—during when everyone in the household attended to their own. During this time, my imagination insisted in me the prevalence and the presence of elementals in my small world then—with my own wonderland “peopled” by no less than asbo, maligno and tawong lipod. Talk of Haley Joel Osment’s “I see dead people” character in M. Night Shymalan’s “The Sixth Sense”. Well, the piece articulates my perpetual amazement by these elementals in our midst. And how solitude ushers in the creative imagination
Catigsan, 1981
Darakulaon mata niya, namumulaag, garong kakakanon ka.
Sa bâsug mo pa nanuparan pasiring ka sa eskwelahan.
Kuminutipas kang pauli na maski dai pa kamo retira.
Tuminago ka sa likod kan platera nindo, nagrurulungsi ka.
Nasabatan mo gayod itong asbô sa libro ni Mrs. Paya.
Filipino Translation:
Sa Catigsan, Taon 1981
Ang lalaki ng kanyang mga mata, parang kakainin ka.
Sa pilapil mo nasalubong papunta sa paaralan ninyo
Humarurot ka ng takbbo pauwi kahit may klase pa.
Nagtago ka sa likod ng inyong platera, namumuti ka.
Nasalubong mo siguro ang mumû sa aklat ni Mrs. Paya.
In the last piece, I penned a translation of Bienvenido Lumbera’s “Eulogy of Roaches” by National Artist for Literature, Bienvenido Lumbera, which is as staple in Introduction to Philippine Literature classes.
I chose this because I don’t know—while the species “ipis” or “kuratsa” are a favorite subject of artists, I wonder whether these insects really need humanity in order to survive.
Why were they even created if human beings find no immediately visible or sensible reason why they should coexist—or cohabit? Can we even consider them for pets? I don’t know.
More than anything, I see some drama in the life of an ipis—we find them alone, usually, in the dead of night, surveying a wall, or tinkering with a morsel of bread left over the study table. There they appear, and always surprise us.
They always do surprise us because we easily feel they en-(cock) roached upon our delicate, precious well-guarded spaces. While we take a piss, or go to the kitchen to fetch an unfinished snack.
I suppose the kuratsa are our fellows in solitude—in the much needed lifestyle of isolation nowadays. In this new normal, we need to do things alone like them. So now at least, we can learn something from them—if it’s any consolation.
Pag-omaw sa Kuratsa*
*Salin ng “Eulogy of Roaches” ni Bienvenido Lumbera
Masuwerte an mga kurátsa.
Sa satong bánwa, mayô
nin minadánay kundî sindá.
Dai ninda kaipuhan nin pulisyá
ta ngani lang magtáwhay sila.
Masarangán nila ang báhô
kag dalók sang tagsá-tagsá.
Sa higkô, sa dugyot, sa bângog
sa pârat, sinda nagpipísta.
Dai ninda kaipuhan mag-obrá,
ara-áldaw mababasóg sindá.
Dawa sain sinda nakukuá ta
sa sála, sa turugan, sa kusína.
Bakóng manughábol, bakóng
manugtáhi, pero aba ána,
hilingá an sulot nindang
pulang amerikána! Siisay
kaipuhan kan hirak ta!
Dawa sain nakaistar sindá,
mayô nin arkilá. An pahalíon
sinda mayong halagá.
Daíng-kakulángan, mayô man
nin pinagkakautángan, sinda
minaparadarákul na saná.
An dawâ daing-trabaho saindá
oróg na minadakul an tsánsa
sa nagwawaraírak na basura.
Madalî sagkod mayong-káso
kun sinda magadan na sana,
bakô lamang makatakot.
Saro sanang spray kan hilô,
Sarong tumák, sarong rapádo kan balâ.
An kulóg kan saró sanang lagapák
iyo an katapusan ninda.
Halipot an buhay nila, alágad
Dawa ang ímol nagtalíwan na,
Yáon pa giráray sindá makukuá
sa platera kan mga may-káya,
kan poderóso, kan madunong
sagkod kan mga gadán na.
