Kallautang: Poetics of Diversity: George Pagulayan

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Note: Here are samples of the materials to be used in the book, “Kallautang-Poetics of Diversity, Displacement, and Diaspora: Ilocanos in the Americas Writing”. All English translations are by Aurelio Solver Agcaoili. The book is published, partially, under a UH SEED Diversity Grant. 

Panagawid

 

George Pagulayan

 

Uray dagiti awan garadgadna

Nga urnos ti Amerika:

Tayag ken taer dagiti edipisyo,

Linis ken lawa dagiti kalkalsada,

Pudaw ken pintas dagiti babbai,

Ket dida kabaelan a gamruten

Dagitoy mail-iliw a mata.

 

Kada Viernes ti malem ti panagawid,

Agpukaw laeng dagiti rupa,

Kolor ken kur-it ti pagnaan. Awan anusda

A mangawis ti taliaw ken siddaaw

Ti puso. Maiwalwalin pati dagiti boses

A ngalngalngalenda. Marunaw amin

Nga banag, damag, lasag, imbag

Ti kanito ket tumartaray ti panunot

Iti sesenta a milia per ora iti bus # 183.

Ruta: Mangrugi idiay Kent

Inggana iti Bacagan, Baggao

Ti nakaat-atiddog a problema.

 

Awan pay ti tapok,

Awan pay ti libsong,

Awan pay ti bagio, layus, El Niño

La Niña a nalabasak: adayo

Nga agpayso ti nakayanakak.

 

Awan pay dagiti nangingisit

A gaget iti siksiko ti taltalon.

Awan pay dagiti agduduog a rigrigat

A tartaraknen dagiti rinibribo nga ektaria

Ti mais, pagay, balatong, tabako

A nabayagen nga inkamada ti utang,

Ti porsiento ti paltog wenno pakdaar

Sadiay munisipio ti makinkukua iti daga,

Makinkukua iti pagkiluan, ti kalkuleytor, ti kuarta

A panggatang met laeng

Iti mais, pagay, balatong, tabako

Nga awan patinggana a rigat:

Adayo paynaga agpayso ti nakayanakak.

 

Ngem imbag laengen ta awan tapok ditoy,

Awan libsong, awan layus.

Adda koma pambarko a saan a bumaba

Ditoy sarawiswis ti gura

Ken iliw ditoy barukongko.

 

 

Returning Home

 

George Pagulayan

 

Even those spotlessly

Clean order of America:

The way buildings stand erect

And handsome

And the neat and spacious roads

And the women fair and beautiful

All these cannot take away

My longing eyes.

 

Each Friday of going home,

Only the faces disappear,

And the colors and the writings on the road.

They do not have the patience

To invite the heart’s looking back

And surprise.

Even their voices in the margin

They chew on.

All things get to melt, news,

Flesh, and the goodness

Of moment and the thought gets

To run on sixty miles per hour on bus #183.

The route: it starts at Kent

And then stops in Bacagan, Baggao

This problem that is so endless. 

 

There is no dust,

There are no potholes,

There is no storm, flood, El Niño

La Niña I passed by: really now, the place

Of my birth is so far away.

 

It’s good there is no dust here,

There is no pothole, no flood,

I could have an alibi of not getting down

The edge of hatred

And the feeling of longing on my chest.

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