An Ladop / The Dive Poem by Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Bago su dumog na hiling nag-ikog sa pahaling ambulansya
astang magin alpog sa dalan ki lobo buda estatwang hayop
Bago natunong su pasimbagan kan nakabikini buda sarwal
sa pagpauntol kan bolang bados sa kulor, namamagat na maan
Bago napundo su burukudan, ngurahab kan radyo, ikik kan periko
sa otik na kadlan, bago inunas kan ikos su balon na nabayaan
Bago naka-isip su saro na hanapon su aki, kan nakua, inubo,
garo bagong mundag, kinugos ki maray ngani bako ika...bako ika

Bago siya pinalibutan kan miron
arog sa pagtipon kan mga ngabil
sa pararom na tahaw kan burak

Bago siya inula sa wash-out na paril
pigpirit su daghan na su laog ikupsit

Bago siya hinawas, tabang manas
sa tubig na nahangos—bago ini gabos,

magayonon munang aldaw.
Daing pirok-pirok an sildang.
Siram sa paros kan pigdarang.
Domingo kan mga pamilyang punaw
sa tapsik buda karapsaw.
Aldaw kan pasiram. Ogma, ogma, ogma.
Buda kawat kan paglukso sa tabla

pasiring sa rarom na sampulong dupa.
Nakadungaw su aki sa nagbubuyog-buyog na tampi
sa baba mga bansag na nagbubusol saiya
na lumampaw. Arogon sinda. Gibuhon an kinaya,
kun dai, kun dai—
aapudon na binabayi!

Saro sana, sa dungan na ibabaw
kan huhulugan, an kayang hilingon kan mata:
an tubig o an salming.

Sa salming nadungawan kan aki na nakatangad siya sa otik
na kalot kan daing dampog na tag-init:
Nakapwesto siya—garo hali sa kalot maturon na halangkaw.
Daing takot. Naghahalat, sasabaton su saiyang paglampaw.

Muya niya na kutang bumaba, gamiton an hagyan
umuli sa harong, magkurubong ki tamong,
makikawat sa sadiri, itubay an mga kawatan,
pero kinakan na kan supog kan nabuyo
an gabos na agihan buda paagi.
Pwera kaining tabla buda an paglukso digdi.

Supog, bakong iyo an enot tang kagadanan?
Sa enot tang lakad sa kalot, ini an usol.
Ta ano an paggurang kundi paghawas hali sa pagkabulot.
Kaya kan naghuhugpa siya sa tubig,
sa salming naghahawas man siya hali sa kalot.
An sabatan niyang takyag nakaunat
nag-uumbasan pasiring sa tahaw.
Ta sa tahaw, an nagsalming buda an salming
masabatan sa daing tipwas na hiling.

Nasagkod su tahaw. Napasa su ibabaw.
Mantang nagtutundag siya sa kalot kan maluway na tubig
nakilingan niya su sadiring padagos
na naghahawas, lampas sa tubig pasiring sa paros,
lampas sa tablang kapinunan, lampas sa angog kan kahoy
nagsasalak sa anyil kan kahewasan.

Sa ibabaw, narumpag su langit sa ogma.
Sa pwersa kan palakpak, nakadangog giraray su kawali.
Siguradohon baga sindang mahawas hali sa tubig
an bago nindang pag-iriba
pasiring sa kinaban kan mga daing takot.
Pero bago ini, aram nindang siguradong mangawngaw
na garo baka, manuno an sipon, mapungak-pungak na garo mauutsan
su aki pagbutha kaini sa tubig.
Ini na an hudyan niyang paghibi,
pagkatapos kaini bako na siyang aki.
Ta nganing mawara an saiyang supog,
sa hampang kan dakol na tawo
kaipuhan siyang pasupugon.
Ta sa iribahan kan mga maisog
senyal ki takot an masupog.
Ini su palabas na pighahalat. An katapusan kan kawat.
Kaya niyani hinanda na kan ama su kamera.
Su ina pig-arikos na su isasabat saiyang twalya.
Pero su pighahalat baga ninda haloy nang nakahawas.
Itoon na ito sa dahilan kun nata sa banggi, kita nagtatangad.
Kasubago pa tapos ining kawat.
Sa tubig, su dai ninda maaako
padagos na naglulubog sa labog kan bakong makaulok na rarom.



English:

Before the wet look tailed the leaving ambulance
until the path of balloons and animal statues became dust
Before the bouncing dialogue of the color-pregnant ball, the in-heat glances
halted between those in trunks and bikinis
Before the game of tag ceased with the blast of the radio, screech of the parrot
caged in a false jungle, before the cat sneaked into the forgotten food
Before someone remembered to find her child, when found, carried him
like a newborn, embraced with thank God it wasn’t you...it wasn’t you.

Before the onlookers crowded around him
like a gathering of lips
around the deepening center of a flower
Before he was poured to the washed-out floor
his chest forced to eject its contents

Before he was fished out, bloated fat
with the water he inhaled—before all this

first a beautiful day.
The ray was unblinking.
The air, luscious with the grilled.
Sunday of families hungry
for a splash and horseplay.
A day of leisure. Joy. Joy. Joy.
And the game of jumping from a plank
to a depth of ten arm stretches.
The child looks down on the wobbling brink
below are the nasty names pushing him
to jump. To be like them. To do what they have endured,
if not, if not—
they’d call him a girl!

Only one, on the simultaneous surface
of the landing is visible to the eye:
the water or the mirror.

On the mirror the child sees himself looking up in the false
pit of the cloudless sky:
He is positioned—like from the pit he’ll spring high.
Fearless. Waiting, to collide with his fall down.

He already wanted to climb down, use the stairs
go home, hide under the sheets
play with himself, lay with his toys,
but all the possible ways and way out
are eaten by the shame of the one placed on the spot.
Except this plank and the jump from it.

Shame, isn’t this our very first death?
In our first step to the grave, this is the push.
For what is aging but climbing out of being stuck in a hole.
That’s why while he’s plummeting to the water,
in the mirror, he’s soaring out of the pit.
His colliding arms are stretched
racing towards the center.
For in the middle, the one looking and the looking-glass
will meet in a fixed stare.

The center is reached. The surface breaks.
While he’s sinking to the pit of the slow water
he turned to see himself continuously
surfacing, beyond the water to the wind
beyond the plank where it began, beyond the forehead of the trees
mixing with the indigo of outer space.

In the surface, the sky fell down with the roar of jubilation.
With the force of the applause, the ear of the pan was able to hear again.
They were really sure that from the water will emerge
their new comrade
on its way to the world of those without fear.
But before this, they know that he will weep
like a cow, his nose will run, he’ll gasp like a dying man
when he surfaces out of the water.
This will be his last crying,
after this he’s no longer a child.
To cure him of his timidity
in front of many people
he needs to be shamed.
For in the brotherhood of the fierce
to be ashamed is a sign of fear.
This is the anticipated show: The end of the game.
That’s why the father already readied his camera.
The mother already brought the towel which will meet him.
But the one they’ve been waiting for had already surfaced a long time ago.
He is already there to the reason why we look up at night.
This game has long been over.
In the water, that which they can’t accept
sank steadily to the murk of the unfunny depth.