Kent De Lima earned a BA in Creative Writing at the University of the Philippines Diliman. He currently teaches English and Creative Writing at the Ateneo de Manila Senior High School. His work has appeared in Ampersand and Kritika Kultura. He was a fellow for poetry at Pagsurat Bikol VII and writes in both English and Rinconada, his mother tongue as a native Irigueño.
galin “For Nelia” ni Mila Aguilar
Kin maging kalap, diri dapat ako umukrong o mababari. diri ako kalap, ay, diri maguang. diri ako magsusunod sa angin—diri tuninong na umuuyon. Pero isiyon na pag inaruk ko a raga, mig-aruk ako para sa doot, nagtutubong punok anggan sa masakop a kinaban. Pero diri man ako gapo na diri maaanod ka bagyo. Diri ako gapo. Ay, nakamamati ako ka pairatong na angin. Mababagunas ka mga taon, kinakanap mga kali. Tuod na mag-iwag, sinusulod a salog. Pero isiyon na pag ako narugrog, mig-rugrog ako para ka raga, natuturog, punok anggan sa masakop a kinaban Ako, mas puon sa batag. Mamumurak a puso sa bunga ka paggibo. Uukrong ako ag babari sa bagyo ag utak. Bitbit ko a mga lupa kong dawon, patutubuon sa kada panawon. Idudulot a sadiri kong ani sa mga tawo, ising tinuba ako para sa karayan, ising pag ako gumam-ot gumagam-ot ako kaiba a mga kanguran ko, punok na nagnananap anggan sa masakop a kinaban.For Nelia, Clarita
after “For Nelia” by Mila Aguilar (Author’s Translation)
To be bamboo, I must not bow low or break. I am no bamboo, ay, never too hollow. I do not follow the wind—never too calm to compromise. But know that if I kiss the ground, it is for the grass, growing quiet until it covers the earth. But I am not rock, too, that storms could not wash away. I am no rock. Ay, I feel when winds whip near. I weather through years, crawling through creeks. I am bound to move, steeling through streams. But know that if I break, I break for the dirt, laying, quiet until it covers the earth. I am more banana tree. My heart blooms to fruits of our labors. I bow and I break to storm and steel. I carry my rotting leaves, regrow with every season. I offer my yield to the people, knowing I was hewn for good, knowing when I root, I root with my brothers and sisters, creeping quiet until we cover the earth.