Pagbasol / Remorse Poem by Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Sa impyerno
kun talagang may impyerno
igwang padusang pig-aapod
na daing kasagkudan
na pagkalamos.
Ini igibo sa mga may kagibo
kan sadiring pagka-utsan.
Para saindang dai nang ganang
humangos, mahiwason an dagat
digdi sa impyerno.
An totoo kaan gabos ini dagat.
Kayang ihusto dawa pira pang kinaban.
Garo kahewasan. An totoo kaan
lalawgon ini kan kahewasan
sa sarong salming.
Duman imbes bitoon,
mga nagrolobong kalag
an nagpaparataw-pataw.
Mga planetang gadan.
Padagos na pigpapano an daghan,
kun igwa pa sindang daghan,
ki tubig.

Dawa daing kasagkudan an pagbilang,
an mga kalag igwang pighahalat:
an punto kan pagkapano.
Na kun pwede dai na ninda abuton,
na sa boot ninda
mas marhay na an lunudon
dawa hanggan nuarin,
dai sana mapano.
Hilinga, ta baka nasasala sana ako,
bakong kusang paghagad ini ki padusa
kan pigpapadusahan?
Arog kaini sa impyerno
pigtuturo an pagkamoot.

Ta kaipuhan palupuson giraray
an mga napanong kalag
pag an pakabutog kaini
kadakula na kan kinaban.
Ini su pigdudulagan.
Ta sa oras na ini kaipuhan
nindang marumduman
an kamawotan na mabuhay.
Ta an masunod na kagadanan
sarong pagsungo-sungo
dai na ninda kaipuhan habason
kundi kusang itatao:
sarong hangos.
Saro sana. Bakong tubig
kundi paros
namit kan dating kinuspang
kinaban.

Bakong garo man sana disyerto
an sarong tagdong tubig?
Sa disyerto, an sarong tagdong tubig
bakong sarong maitom na paulok?
Paghinangos ninda ini
bagong malalamos sana sinda
ki pagmawot na patawadon?
Kuguson giraray an hinabuan.
Ata an mismong dagat na ini
bakong ginibo man sana
kan sadiri nindang luha?
Pag nasapar na ninda
kun ano su nawara,
pagnaukdan na ninda
an tataramon na “kanugon”,
saka sinda ilulugom giraray
sa midbidon na nindang tubig
buda diklom.

English:

In hell
if there really is hell
there is a punishment called
state of bottomless drowning.
This is done to those who did
their own undoing.
For them who are fed up
with breathing, the sea is vast
here in hell.
In fact it is all sea.
Enough to fit no matter how many worlds.
Like space. In fact
this is the reflection of space
in a mirror.
There, instead of stars,
bloated souls
are drifting.
Dead planets.
Their lungs, if they still have lungs, are filled constantly
with water.

Even though the counting is endless,
the souls here got something to wait for:
the point of fullness.
Which if only they wouldn't reach it,
that deep inside them
to drown forever is better
than be full.
Look, for I may just be mistaken
isn't this a whole-hearted request for punishment
by the punished?
This is how in hell
love is taught.

For the swollen souls
must again be deflated
if they have inflated
as big as the world.
This is what they are avoiding.
For at this point
they need to remember
the desire to live.
For the next death
will be a taunt
they need not steal it
it will be given freely:
one gasp.
Only one. Not water
but air
taste of the old world
they have spat.

Isn't a dropp of water
almost like a desert?
In the desert, isn't a dropp of water
a merciless joke?
If they would breathe this
wouldn't they just drown
with the desire to be forgiven?
To embrace again what was abandoned.
Even this very sea,
isn't it made by their very tears?
Until they have suffered
what was lost,
until they have learned
the words 'regret for the wasted'
only will they be submerged again
to the water and darkness
they well know.