Kristian Sendon Cordero
KAN ALDAW NA UMINABOT
AN BAGYO NA KAPANGARAN
KAN SAKUYANG INA
Ofelia, ini an enot na sambit ni Tatay
kan madangog an bareta na may paabot na bagyo—
pangaran na minaanan sa gabos na panahon
sa alanganin man na daga o dagat na nagkakalayo.
Nagsisiwit na an duros kaya pigpakarhay mi
an lanob asin atop kan tugang kong nguhod.
Piggakod an mga bintana asin pigsakat an mga bagas
sa lugar na dai mababasa kun aboton kan baha.
Sa ibong na harong, madadangog an kiri-kisi
kan naghihingagdan na radyo, nagbabaratok an mga ido
asin nagpupuon nang magilo-gilo an mga batag,
naghuhurulog si mga kayo sa maduoton nang natad.
Nagpruprusisyon an mga itum na sirum sa garapon
na pigsasarayan kaidto kan sangkaka asin bukayo,
Tibaad an hamis bako sana man nanggad sa namit,
kundi kaibahan an pamarong asin paggiromdom.
Sa silya, nakatukaw an daing girong kong ama,
haloy na siya duman sa halat kan apgi, bulanit, awit,
kalintura, pagkulog kan daghan, bulong asin tagay
na pigpapalis kan natatadang buhay na pigdidiit-diit
Mantang, pigsasaro-saro an mga letra sa pangaran
kan sakuyang ina, na maabot ngonyan na sarong bagyo,
pangaran na minaanan sa gabos na panahon
sa alanganin man na daga o dagat na nagkakalayo.
THE DAY A STORM
WITH THE NAME
OF MY MOTHER CAME
Ophelia, was what Father uttered at once
the moment he heard news of a coming storm—
a name he looked at and looked over for all time,
as he straddled what could be sea or soil on fire*.
The wind had begun to whistle so we fixed
the wall and roof together with my younger brother.
We roped the windows tight and stowed the rice
up where they wouldn’t get wet in a flood.
At the other house, we could hear the static
on the failing radio, the dogs were barking
and the banana plants were starting to rattle like teeth,
the kapok pods were falling on the overgrown yard.
Black ants lined up in procession towards the jar
that we used to store chunks of molasses and sugared
coconut flesh: Sweetness, it seemed was not taste
alone, but part of scent and memory.
At the chair sat my unspeaking father,
he’d been there long waiting for the spray of rain
coming in, sunlight, song, fever, chest pain,
medicine, and life pouring its last drops
While he looked over and uttered each of the letters
in Mother’s name, who was coming as a storm,
a name looked at and looked over for all time
as he straddled what could be sea or soil on fire.
(translation by Marne L. Kilates)
*Idiom in original, meaning severe suffering.
PHOTO: Akhil Tandulwadikar
