‘Sanayan Lang ang Pagpatay’ by Albert Alejo, SJ, a translation to English

(He’s in hot water these days over his alleged involvement in a bribery case, but Fr Alejo is a good poet, and this was one of the first good poems I read as a college student in Ateneo de Davao)

Killing is Just a Matter of Getting Used To
translation by Karlo Antonio Galay David

(For the sector of society which kills people)

Killing someone? It’s all just about getting used to it, man.
Like with a lizard. Of course at first
you’ll flinch. You won’t stomach
slingshoting or hitting it like some cockroach or mosquito
because it seems like it’s always on top
of some saint’s forehead on an altar,
and a voice is always there telling you
No no no, killing is bad.
But like so many things
Killing is something you learn if you work hard at it,
if you listen to those with more experience.
I learned from my uncle how to strike with a slipper
or hit with a garter the lizards on our ceiling,
and when they fall on the floor twitching
you pin them down so they don’t run away
while you focus your weight slowly
on one tiptoed foot: then suddenly you bring it down. This is good training
because you don’t see it, you just hear the crunching
of the skull of that goddamn lizard who won’t be ticking from now on.
(if you think about it, they’re quite the villain to moths themselves)
Before long my hands grew more creative
with gouging out their eyes,
cutting off their feet with blades, crushing the eggs inside them
until they writhe as if on top of burning coal.
Or during Christmas, when there are a lot of fireworks
I carefully stuff a firecracker inside their mouths
so when they explode the snout says goodbye to the tail.
(I still don’t understand though
why they just continue to grow plenty)

That’s why sometimes killing can get rather dull.
Fortunately, doors and windows have a way
of surprising you, letting you unwittingly take lives.
Really, that’s all there is to killing:
If not me, someone else will strike;
if not now, maybe some other time.

But what really lets me do this
is our deep and lasting bond:
while I am here killing, all of you just watch.

Sanayan Lang Ang Pagpatay
ni Albert Alejo, SJ
(Para sa sektor nating pumapatay ng tao)

Pagpatay ng tao? Sanayan lang ‘yan pare.
Parang sa butiki. Sa una siyempre
Ikaw’y nangingimi. Hindi mo masikmurang
Tiradurin o hampasing tulad ng ipis o lamok
Pagkat para bang lagi ‘yang nakadapo
Sa noo ng santo sa altar
At tila may tinig na nagsasabing
Bawal     bawal      bawal ‘yang pumatay.
Subalit tulad lang ng maraming bagay
Ang pagpatay ay natututuhan din kung magtitiyaga
Kang makinig sa may higit na karanasan.
Nakuha ko sa tiyuhin ko kung paanong balibagin ng tsinelas
O pilantikin ng lampin ang nakatitig na butiki sa aming kisame
At kapag nalaglag na’t nagkikikisay sa sahig
Ay agad ipitin nang hindi makapuslit
Habang dahan-dahang tinitipon ang buong bigat
Sa isang paang nakatingkayad: sabay bagsak.Magandang pagsasanay ito sapagkat
Hindi mo nakikita, naririnig lamang na lumalangutngot
Ang buo’t bungo ng lintik na butiking hindi na makahalutiktik.
(kung sa bagay, kilabot din ‘yan sa mga gamu-gamo.)
Nang magtagal-tagal ay naging malikhain na rin
Ang aking mga kamay sa pagdukit ng mata,
Pagbleyd ng paa, pagpisa ng itlog sa loob ng tiyan
Hanggang mamilipit ‘yang parang nasa ibabaw ng baga.
O kung panahon ng Pasko’t maraming paputok
Maingat kong sinusubuan ‘yan ng rebentador
Upang sa pagsabog ay magpaalaman ang nguso at buntot.
(Ang hindi ko lamang maintindihan ay kung bakit
Patuloy pa rin ‘yang nadaragdagan.)

Kaya’t ang pagpatay ay nakasasawa rin kung minsan.
Mabuti na lamang at nakaluluwag ng loob
Ang pinto at bintanang kahit hindi mo sinasadya
At may paraan ng pagpuksa ng buhay.
Ganyang lang talaga ang pagpatay:
Kung hindi ako ay iba naman ang babanat;
Kung hindi ngayon ay sa iba namang oras.
Subalit ang higit na nagbibigay sa akin ng lakas ng loob
Ay ang malalim nating pagsasamahan:
Habang ako’y pumapatay, kayo nama’y nanonood.


Himno Kidapawan Lyrics: Translation to English

(Since I cannot find this online I decided to make it available here. I cannot ascertain yet if the Kidapawan hymn –  this song I’ve known since I was in elementary – predated Kidapawan’s cityhood, or like the seal it was commissioned in 1998. The song was composed, and its lyrics written, by Mary Jane Dizon, with Wilson Dizon providing the arrangement.)

Himno Kidapawan

Ating Lungsod na pinagpala,
Kidapawan naming mutya,
Sa bawat hagupit ng pagsubok
Ikaw at di nalulugmok

Natatangi ang iyong kasaysayan,
Pati ang iyong mamamayan,
Taglay mo ang yaman ng kalikasan,
mahal naming Kidapawan.

Chorus:
Sama-sama kaming nagpupugay.
Maging buhay man ay iaalay,
Sa ‘yo lungsod naming minamahal,
Kidapawan, o! Kidapawan!

Ika’y sagisag ng pag-asa
Kristyano’t muslim sama-sama,
Mga katutubo ay nakikiisa
sa layuning ika’y mapaganda.

Simbahan, gobyerno, kasama
Mga tao’y nagkakaisa
Kidapawan, tunay kang pinagpala

 

Kidapawan Hymn
translated by Karlo Antonio Galay David

Our blessed city,
Kidapawan our treasure,
As each challenge hits you
You do not crumble

How unique is your history
and your people,
You possess the abundance of nature
our beloved Kidapawan

Chorus:
Together we celebrate you.
Even offering our lives for you,
For you, our beloved city
Kidapawan, oh Kidapawan!

You are a sign of hope
of Christians and Muslims together,
The tribes are one with us
in the desire to make you glorious.

The church, the government together
The people are all united
Kidapawan, how blessed you are.


‘Song of Ripeness’ by Jose Garcia Villa: A translation to Davao Filipino

Awit ng Kahinog

Hinog na ang butong
parang utong sa lubi.
(Dalawa lang ang utong ng babae
maraming buhay-babae sa lubi.)
katagalan magniyog ang butong, mabigat at puno:
mahulog sa puno, at magpulot ako isa… marami…
parang bata, sipsipin ko yang kanilang gata,
sipsipin ko sa mga niyog ang kanilang mga kinayod na awit:
makaalala ako ng maraming babae.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Maghalik ako ng butong kay utong siya ng babae

 

Song of Ripeness
by Jose Garcia Villa

The coconuts have ripened,
They are like nipples to the tree.
(A woman has only two nipples,
There are many women-lives in a coconut tree.)
Soon the coconuts will grow heavy and full:
I shall pick up one…many…
Like a child I shall suck their milk,
I shall suck out of coconuts little white songs:
I shall be reminded of many women.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I shall kiss a coconut because it is the nipple of a
woman.


‘Sa imong barutong papel’ by Gina Mantua Panes: A translation to English and Burmese

(I translate into English a lovely Cebuano poem from Kabisdak, and I have one of my best students here in Myanmar, Nu Nu Pan, translate it from there to Burmese!)

In your little paper boat
translated by Karlo Antonio Galay David

My child let me ride
on your little paper boat.
I’ll be with you
to face
that high surge
up ahead.
Hold me
as I stagger
with the turbulence
of gusts.
When you unfurl
your sails,
let me hold on
to the ropes.

My child, teach me
to close my eyes
with you.
And with this
show me
the colours
of the depths
into which you dive
without ceasing.

Let me hear
the murmuring of the tales
of each river,
coastline,
and waterway.
Whisper to me
where you will find
the end
of this rainbow
which you tell me
has colours
radiating
from your depths.

Where, my child, where
is the navel
of your ocean?

 

သင့် စကဣူလှေငယ်လေးနဲ့အတူ
မ – နူးနူးပန် မှ ဘာသာပျန် ဆို သည်။

ငါ့သားလိုက်ပါစီးနင်းပါရေစ
သင့် စဣူလှေငယ်လေး ပေါမှ
သားနဲ့ အတူရှိနေမှာပါ
ထိုမြင့်မားလှ လှိုင်းလုံးကြီးက်ု
ထိပ်တိုက်ရင်ဆိုင်ဖို့လေ
ကွဲကိုင်လို့ထား ငါ့အား
ငါယိုင် လဲမတတ်ဖြစ်လို့နေ
ခက်ထန်လှတဲ့ ကြမ်းတမ်းခြေနေ
မိုးကြီးလေပြင် ကြာင့် လေ
သင် လှေရွက်တွေကို
ရွက်လွှင့်သော်ခါ
ကြိုးတွေကိုလ
ကိုင်ထားပါရေစလား

ငါ့သားသင်ပေးလှည့်ပါ ငါ့အား
မ်က်လုံးတွေကို မှိတ်ဖို့ရယ်
သင်နဲ့အတူပါ
ပြီးလှုင်ဤအရာႏနှင်ပင်
သင်ငုပ်ဝင်သွားသော
ရပ်စဲမှုမဲ့ရာ
အေရာင် များရဲ့ အနက်အရှိုင်းကိုလေ

ကြားပါရေစ
ညည်း ညူသံတွေ
ပုံပြင် တွေဆီက
မြစ်တွေဆီက
ကမ်းရိုးတန်းဆီက
တူးမြောင်ဆီကပေါ့
တီးတိုးပြောပါ ငါ့အား
သင်ရှာင်တွေမယ့်နေရာ
သင့်အရောင် နက်ရှိုင် မှုတွေ
ငှားရမ်ခံထားရတဲ့
သင် ငါ့အားပြောပြ နိုင်မယ် အရာ
ဤသက်တံ့ရဲ့ အဆုံးကိုလေ

ဘယ်မှာလဲငါ့သား ဘယ်မှာလဲ
သမုဒ္ဒရာကြီးရဲ့ ဗဟိုချက်လေ

 

Sa imong barutong papel
ni Gina Mantua Panes

Pasakya ko, anak
Sa imong barutong papel.
Mukuyog ko
Sa pagsugat
nianang bul-og
sa unahan.
Kupti ko
Sa akong pagbarag
Inig sukarap na unya
Sa hangin.
Sa imong pagtugot
Sa layag,
Pasagdi kong mogunit
Sa katig.

Tudloi ko, anak
Sa pagpiyong
Kauban nimo.
Ug didto
Pakit-a ko
Sa mga bulok
Sa kahiladman
Nga way puas
Nimong gisawom.

Padungga ko
Sa uraray sa mga sugilanon
Sa matag suba,
Lapyahan
Ug katubigan.
Ihunghong nako
Kon asa
Ang kinatumyan
Nianang bangaw,
Nga matod mo,
Duna’y mga bulok
Nga hinulaman
Sa imong kinahiladman.

Hain, anak, hain,
Ang kinapusoran
Sa imong dagat?


‘Lanit’: A Translation of the Vietnamese Folk Tale ‘Rat Poison’ to Davao Filipino

(I encountered the humorous Vietnamese folk tale entitled ‘Rat Poison’ in Vietnamese Folk Tales: Satire and Humour, edited by Hữu Ngọc and published in 2012 by Thế Giới Publishers, and it intrigued me. It had almost the exact same premise as another classic work of folk literature, the kyogen play Busu. I intend to translate Busu to DF in the future too!)

20161129_130423

May isang barat na amo na kahilig sa masarap, pero grabe makadaginot pagdating na gani sa ipakain sa mga tauhan niya. Para makalikay lalo sa pangupit o pagyawyaw, yang pinagabugo lang talaga na amaw ang gina-kontrata niya.

Isang araw, bago siya maglaag, gisabihan niya ang kanyang tauhan, isang binatilyo galing bukid na bago niya lang gikontrata:

  • Dong, bantayan mo itong hamon at yang lechong manok ha. At sus, ‘wag mo talaga galawin yang dalawang bote diyan. Lanit (Lannate) yan, makahilo yan masyado.

Pag-alis ng amo, gikuha ng alalay ang pagkain galing sa mesa at gilamon, gipangtulak pa ang bino na nasa dalawang bote.

Pagbalik ng amo nakahapla lang intawon sa tulog ang amaw, parang tunog ng kasing kalakas ang paghagok.

  • Oy ‘dong, buanga ka, gising – sigaw ng amo – anong nangyari sa ulam ko, ha?
  • Ay hala boss sorry talaga masyado – sagot ng binatilyo, nagakusot pa ng mata at nagahikab – gibantayan ko talaga yun, pero ka-maro man talaga nung aso uy. Naglimod lang gud ako ikaisa, pagtingin ko natangay na.
  • Sus, sa hiya ko boss, maghikog na lang sana ako, kaya giinom ko yung iyong lanit!

‘Seitanto’ (Short Pipe) by Mae Khwae: A Translation to Filipino

(My first translation from Burmese needed a lot of help from locals – I can hardly speak the language yet. The original was taken from the 1966 collection of Classical Burmese poem translations by Friedrich Lustig, which has a brief biography of the 18th Century poetess)

Kuwako

Kuwako, gialukan ako, kahit isang suyop lang daw:
Kung tanggihan ko, baka malain; kung tanggapin ko, baka akalain…
‘Ay hala, kung gusto mo talaga ‘day, ilagay mo
doon sa may kama.’

 

ဆေးတံတို

ဆေးတံတို တညှိုလောက်၊ ရော့သောက်တာ့ပေး၊
မယူလိုက်ကမိုက်လို့ထင်၊ ယူလိုက်ပြန်ကကြိုက်လို့ထင်။
သောက်စေစျင်၊ ကုတင်တွင်၊ ထောင်ခဲ့ကွဲ၊
ညိုနွဲ့ ရဲလေး။ ။
– မယ်ခွေ

 

Short Pipe

A pipe… a puff…
short as a finger…
I give you
for smoking.

‘If I do not take it
you will think me crude
If I accept it
you will think I like you.

‘If you want me
to smoke it
put it near the bed
my dear one’
– Mae Khwae (translated by Friedrich Lustig)

 


Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins: A Translation to Deriadian Filipino

(This took a long time and a lot of polishing before I got it right, probably my best and most ambitious translation yet)

Batiking Kariktan
translated by Karlo Antonio Galay David

Luwalhati sa Diyos ng kapuntikan –
Sa kámbang-bakang kulay ng kaulapan;
Sa nagmamapang hagod-bulok ng basakang haluan;
Bagang-uling na lamang pili; kuyos ng kuwago;
Lupang nilaraw, niluak – bungkal, daro, arado
At sa lahat ng kabihasaan: basbas, taga, at galho.

Lahat ng batok, bago, bihira, lain;
Ano mang balingbaling, batik-batik (inano kaya?)
ng kaabtik, kabagal; tamis, asim; sidlak, silim;
Kanyang Inama itong lahat, higit-ayos ang ganda:

Purihin Siya.

 

Pied Beauty
by Gerard Manley Hopkins, SJ

Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise Him.