memory's sacred domain

moments mundane and magical

Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

IN MEMORIAM

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For T. M.

 

Now that you are gone, you suddenly loom large in our memory, its vast spaces emptying themselves of our puny, if laughable, concerns to give way to you. Ah, pain comes in varying degrees, but it is there, when we pause from our present worries and remember. Do we say, like Rilke, that we have our own dead, of whom we have let go, and they are so at home at being dead, so contended, and so cheerful? (But you didn’t even give us the chance to properly let go of you because you simply chose to go away unnoticed!)

And how could we speak of you as if you now belonged only to the past? Here, in the memory of the heart, you are so much promise still happening, untouchable to nature’s unpredictable claims. If we can only transform things from the real to the unreal, and speak only of mere reflections upon the dark surfaces of our gloomiest days, and not of the irrevocability of your absence, its somber shadows now lengthening, now engulfing us…
02/10/06

 

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Written by Romel

January 29, 2015 at 5:28 am

Posted in college life, poetry, tula

Tagged with , , ,

An invitation

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agatha

Written by Romel

May 8, 2013 at 3:12 am

Posted in balak, beauty, love, poetry, tula

The thrill of literary romance

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From the Hungarian writer George Konrad’s memoirs, A Guest in my Own Country: A Hungarian Life (2002) a tale of an unlikely but endearing romance with his first wife, Julia:

When I first met Julia Langh, who would be my wife from the autumn of 1960 to the autumn of  1976, she had floated into the Kisposta Cafe trailing blond hair and rustling  black rain-coat and wearing a white blouse with a turned-down collar. She had just come from university — where she had been accepted thanks to her perfect gimnazium record and a captivating articulateness — and entered the cafe, a first-year student in French and Hungarian, suppressing her timidity and wondering, “My God, what happens now? Who is that old man, that twenty-seven year old?” She was not quite eighteen.

I would show up at six a.m. with notebook, pen, and ink, as if punching a time clock. It allowed me to watch the rendezvous, generally hurried, that took place before work.
 
….from that morning on, Juli and I saw each other practically everyday for sixteen years. I could always be assured of stories: she is the kind of person whom elaborate things happen to, or who can make them happen. For her part, she did not appear to find the stories of the aging welfare officer and part-time proof reader tedious and had no qualms about putting the  necktied knight in his place when the stories turned into analyses. She was obviously free of all dishonorable intentions.

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And then this poem from Osip Mandelstam, translated from Russian to English  by A.S.  Kline, and which the poet wrote for his wife Nadezhada:

This is what I most want

This is what I most want

un-pursued, alone

to reach beyond the light

that I am furthest from.

And for you to shine there-

no other happiness-

and learn, from starlight,

what its fire might suggest.

A star burns as a star,

light becomes light,

because our murmuring

strengthens us, and warms the night.

And I want to say to you

my little one, whispering,

I can only lift you towards the light

by means of this babbling.

Written by Romel

April 8, 2013 at 6:01 pm

One for poetry month

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hands

Haiku ng pagsinta

 

Sa  seda

ng iyong mga kamay,

halik ng mga pangarap.

 

April 5, 2013, 12:33 am

Written by Romel

April 4, 2013 at 5:58 pm

Posted in balak, beauty, love, poetry, tula

Tagged with , , , , ,

A Good Friday Poem

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Good Friday is just around the corner, and our campus-based Alliance congregation, the Christ our Life Fellowship, will be holding a Tenebrae (A Service of Shadows);  for that purpose I found this poem in English by Henry J. Baron, entitled In the Courtyard with Peter, and translated it with the help of a friend into Tagalog, for use as one of the readings for the Tenebrae.        

Candles3

Sa Patyo kasama ni Pedro

(Salin mula sa Ingles nina Romel Bagares at Agatha Palencia, 3.25.13)

Ako man any naroon noon sa kailaliman ng gabi sa patyo ng Punong Pari

nang sa takot ang mga anghel sa kaitasan ay nagliparan palibot sa trono ng Ama

nang ang mga nakaismid na mga lehiyon ay nag-unahan at nagtulakan sa maagang selebrasyon

nang walang pakundangang umupo si Pedro kasama ang mga guwardiya palibot sa apoy

upang bantayan si Hesus—

Ako man ay naroon

Narinig at nakita ko ang mga karimari-marim, kasuklam-suklam na masasamang taong

nagkubli bilang mga pari, mga nakatatanda, at mga mangangaral ng batas

habang kanilang inabuso ang Diyos na kailanma’y hindi nila kinilala

sapagkat sila’y hindi mga tagasunod Niya

hindi nila narinig ang kanyang pangangaral sa bundok na nagbasbas

sa payak ang kalooban, sa mapagpakumbaba, sa maawain, sa dalisay ang puso

dahil hindi sila ganoon at hindi sila kailanman nagnais maging ganoon

aaminin kong ako ma’y hindi ganoon ngunit palagiang nagnanais maging tagasunod.

Sila’y hindi mga tagasunod Niya

kaya hindi nila kilala ang Anak ng Diyos na ito

O kung ginusto nila

kung nakita nila ang pilay na sumayaw sa tuwa

kung nakita nila ang  luwalhati sa mga mata ng isang taong ipinanganak na bulag

kung nakita nila ang ganda ng bagong balat na nagdabdab sa braso ng isang dating ketongin

kung nakita nilang lumundag  ang espiritu ng isang balo ng muling magkabuhay ang anak na namatay

kung nakita nga nila, tatawagin din kaya nila si Kristo bilang Anak ng Diyos?

Alam ni Pedro, at ako man ay nakakaalam din.

Ngunit si Pedro’y itinatwa ito nang may panunumpa;

Ako rin kaya’y may ginawang ganitong sala, kung kailan mas ligtas at mas madali ang magpanggap?

Tumatangis ang mga angel, habang ang mga diyablo’y nagsasayaw.

Naririnig natin siyang Kabanal-banalan na sinumpang mamatay

dahil sa kung sino Siya

napagmamasdan natin ang pagbaling ng kanyang mukha

ang maruming dura ng mga mapag-alipustang lalaking naghahalo ng kanyang dugo

Ibabaling niya ang kanya mukha at titingin ng tuwid kay Pedro

at sa akin

sa bawat isa sa aming nagtaksil sa aming sinumpaan

at sa kanyang tingin ay walang paghuhusga, sa halip ito ay pag-ibig

pag-ibig na dumudurog sa puso ng nagkasala.

Si Pedro’y  naglakad tungo sa kadiliman at doon ay mapait na nanangis.

At ako man ay nanangis din.

            

Written by Romel

March 26, 2013 at 4:01 pm

translations and treacheries

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Traduttore, traditore. Translator, traitor. But I love to translate poetry written in English into Filipino!  For a poor versifier such as I,  it’s the next best thing to actually writing poetry.   So here’s the most recent produce of my traitorous mind, my translation of Luci Shaw‘s  Advent poem, Made flesh. I’d like to thank my friend — a great poet of a lawyer — Pambie Herrera, who read this at our church’s  Advent Service in Lessons and Carols last night. Ariel Lev Pinzon was  herself a revelation when she read the original poem in English.

Nagkatawang Tao 

Pagkatapos

na pagtiyapin

ang langit at madilim na lupa

ng  kinang ng mainit na pagpapahayag

ang kanyang nakakapaso’t matalas na liwanag

ay sandaling nawala’t

itinago ng lumbay ng sinapupunan:

ang hinahon ng  malawak Niyang rangya

ang pangkalahatan Niyang biyaya

Tinuping maliit sa maligamgam na anino

ng bahay-bata—

Salitang isinilid sa siyam na buwang katahimikan—

walang hanggang nabakuran sa sinapupunan

hanggang sa susunod na kalakhan—ang Dakila,

matapos  magpasakop sa paghihirap ng isang babae,

Kawawa sa ulilang sahig

Nakatikim ng mapait na lupa.

Ngayon  ako, sa Kanya’y sumusuko

Sa ipit at iyak ng kapanganakan.

Dahil ang walang hangga’y

napiit sa panahon

Siya ang aking bukas na pinto

Sa magpakailanman.

Mula sa kanyang pagkakapiit  mga kalayaan ko’y sumibol

nagkapakpak.

Ako’y bahagi ng katawan Niya,

nalalampasan ko ang katawang ito.

Mula sa kanyang matamis na katahimikan,  bibig ko’y umaawit.

Mula sa kanyang karimlan, ako’y kumikinang

Ang buhay ko, bilang kanya,

pupuslit sa baklad ng kamatayan,

Mga himig ng panahon,

kapit-bisig ang langit,

kausap ang mga tala.

 

 

Salin  sa Filipino ni Romel Regalado Bagares  ng orihinal na tula sa Ingles  ni Luci Shaw. 12.4.11


Written by Romel

December 4, 2011 at 4:13 pm

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