An Estranghero / The Stranger Poem by Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Sa tahaw kan paoro-otro nindang piggigibo
nag-abot su estranghero.
Arog an lagapak kan sarong gabat
sa dai naghahangos na tubig. Guminibo
ining singsing ki pagmuklat.

Pinalibutan ninda siya sa talimon
kan saindang pagmaan
arog an nadudurat na ayam.

Mala sa pandok niya an pinilaan na labod
kan ogma na aram nindang gibo sana
kan sarong bulawan na panahon
na dai na ninda naabutan.

Muya garo nindang hapruson
an lawas niyang ibidensiya
kan sarong suanoy na osipon
pero takot na magduot
ta garo pakpak kan kalibambang
baka marunot.

Para sa osipon na ini
sa daghan ninda duminaguso
an sarong dayong pagmate: pagmawot.
Dai ninda aram kun ano an dapat gibuhon
kaya pinadagos ninda ini—siya.
Dangan sa lambang saro
naghanap ki pandok
na baka lamang makamidbid
o makarumdom kan mga gawi
na bako naman sainda.

Bako para saiya
kundi sa tataramon niya
kaya tinao muna ninda an tukawan
kan kagurangnan.
Dinulot saiya an mga pagkaon
na mga batala sana an nagkakakan.
Pinadurog saiya an mga babaying
dai pa nadudutan.
Dangan dai man ninda sierto
pero garo kaipuhan,
nag-ogma sinda, nagtaong atang,
bako para saiya
kundi sa saiyang itataram.

Kan nahubas na su mga dulay
na pigkakaturugan kan alak
para ki Gugurang,
kan dai nang bunuon
sa gastadong kadlagan,
kan su aning tinagama
kan pirang henerasyon
naluwag na sa tuludan,
su lugar na nawalat
pagkatapos kan kaogmahan
guminabat sa paghalat.

Maalangaangon sa dakol na iuran
su bangging nagtiripon sa mga tawo
sa estranghero.
Sa dampog hirigot
su mga kikilat
na nagkasarabod
na garing mga ugat.

Su katoninungan
arog kan paghalat na maglaylay
su bitis kan bibitayon.
Su mga duli-duling kinadakulaan
na an paghuni dai naghuni
ta garo may tataramon na importante.

Dangan
hali sa estranghero
kuminamang su Tataramon
na garo bangog
kan ngimot na haloy na nakasara
pasiring sa mga tawong nagkamurungnan.

Haluyon sinda duman mga estatwang laman.
Kun dai niyani huminugpa su uran
dai sinda maburuklusan
pasiring sa saindang lambang kubo.
Duman gabos sinda nakahiling sa baba
garo mga naumayan na gadan
mantang pigrurunot su daga
kan mapanason na uran.

English:

In the middle of things they have always been doing
the stranger arrived.
Like the crash of a weight
on breathless water. It made rings of awakening.

They surrounded him in a circle
made by their stares
like dogs in heat.

For in his face were lash-scars
of an ecstasy they know possible only
in a golden age
which they have not seen.
Perhaps, they wanted to caress
his body which is proof
of an ancient tale
but dared not to touch
for like the wings of butterflies
it would seem that he'd crumble.

For this tale
in their chests surged
a foreign feeling: yearning.
They didn't know what to do
so they just welcomed this—him.
Then they searched each other's faces
hoping one amongst them might know
or remember the rites of old
which is no longer theirs.

Not for him
but for what he's going to tell,
they seated him to the throne
of Kagurangnan, The Oldest.
They offered him the food
only a batala, god, is allowed to eat.
They have laid with him women
no one has ever touched.
And though they were uncertain
yet seem to think as appropriate,
they celebrated, they sacrificed,
not for him,
but for what he was going to tell.

When the jars where the wine for Gugurang, The Ancient, sleeps
became dry,
when there was nothing left to slaughter
in the exhausted wilderness,
when the harvests kept for generations to come
were served,
the place left behind by the festivities
grew heavy with waiting.

Humid with expectancy of rain
was the night the people gathered
around the stranger.
In the clouds
the lightning were tight
tangled like veins.

The silence
was like the waiting
for the feet of the hanged
to dangle.
The crickets who are used to chirping
did not chirp
for as if something important was about to be said.

Then
from the stranger
The Word crawled out
like a foulness
from a mouth long shut
to the people who were stunned.

For a long time, they were there, statues of flesh.
If the rain hadn't fallen
they will not flee
for their huts.
Here they were all stooped down
gazing like resurrected dead
while the earth is being crushed
by the sharp rain.