Kallautang-Prodie Gar. Padios

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Note: Exerpted from the book, Kallautang–Poetics of Diversity, Displacement, and Diaspora: Ilokanos in the Americas Writing (TMI Global Press 2009). Published in collaboration with the UHM SEED, under a diversity initiative grant, and the Ilokano Language and Literature Program, University of Hawai’i at Manoa. Edited, translated, and with a critical introduction by Aurelio Solver Agcaoili. 

 

Dagiti Sabong ti Saskatchewan*

 

Prodie Gar. Padios

 

limtawda a kas mutia iti kaltaang

ti panaglupos ti aglawlaw: pinatubo ida

iti pannakalabus ti daga iti ules ni ayat

pinabukar ida ti salemsem iti bigbigat

pinarimat ida ti raya ti init—palabbasiten

ida iti agek ti linnaaw: maimurumor ti pulida

iti pannakaarbisda iti romansa ti lubong

kadakuada. daydayawen, pagdidinnamaganda

ida: tumayok ti layap iti batogda a langit

iti panangsungbatda iti nasam-it a “wen”

dagiti mangar-arog kadakuada: ta, wen,

ti laeng lunglung-ay ken ayamuomda

di agpangngadua dagiti puso ti angin

a mangilili ken mangisala kadakuada

iti entablado ti kinarang-ay. bukodda

ti isem a yir-irair ti bara ti kablaaw

dagiti nababaked a takiag: agpasagda

man kadagiti namsek ken maskulado

a barukong ti uniberso, ngem awanto

ti pannakalaylayda iti panagtabon

dagiti agkubkubbon a malem. ket, wen,

maabbonganda iti ules nga imengda

iti buttaw a batibat ti law-ang. ngem adda

latta panagkupasda iti idadateng ti littugaw

iti unos ti panagbiagda: adda ngamin

kasingin ti kimat ken gurruod a bayakabak

kadagiti nalulem nga agmatuon: kiraban

ida ti nalamlamiis pay ngem bangkay

a lamiis nga agtinnag a kas ukom—

mangipalagip kadakuada a nalpasen

ti kaipapananda iti dayta a panawen

ti panagbiagda: aginanada iti naunday

a tiempo, ket iti idadatengto manen

ti gundawayda, ipakita ken iparikna

ken ipamatmatdanto manen ti sam-it

ti ayat ken kinaidumdumada a kas

mutia iti panaglupos ti aglawlaw…

 

*Maysa a siudad ti Alberta, Canada dagiti agkakapintas ken agkakamaris a sabsabong.

 

 

 

 The Flowers of Saskatchewan*

 

Prodie Gar. Padios

 

they appeared like jewels in midnight

in the molting of the surroundings:

they are made to grow

in the earth being undressed

in that blanket of love

made to blossom by the cold of mornings

made to glitter by the ray of the sun

and with the kiss of dew

are made to go rosy pink:

their kind will be sown

in the drizzle of the world’s romantic

liaison with them.

honored, the highlight

of news: a meteor rises in the heavens

under them in their response

of  a sweet “yes”

to those who tell of their love for them:

because, yes,

only their graceful sway and sweet fragrance

the heart of the breeze would never doubt

in lulling them, in dancing with them

in the center stage of progress

theirs is the smile in the warmth

of the greetings of strong arms:

even if they rest content with the hardened

and muscled breast of the universe, but

there will be no wilting of the funeral

of an afternoon with a back bent.

and yes, they are wrapped with the blanket

that is their warmer in the pierced

dreams of space.

but they fade

in the coming of the dew

in their lifetime: there is twin to

lightning and thunder that are

a sprinkling of rain at noontime:

a cold colder than cadaver that fall

as judgment gnaws at them–

these remind them

that their worth is done at that time

of their life: they rest for a long time

and in the coming of their own chance,

they will again show up

and make you feel 

and make you realize

about the sweetness of love

and their being special

jewel in the molting of the earth…

 

*A city of beautiful and colorful flowers in Alberta, Canada

 

 

 

Dagiti Annak Ti Ulimek

 

Prodie Gar. Padios

 

 

i.

pamrayanda ti mangitagbat iti buneng ti pungtot

iti lasag ken tulang dagiti marangrangkay a namnama:

pastrekenda iti maysa; paruarenda iti bangir a lapayagda

dagiti makadudog iti puso ken kinatao a bugkaw dagiti amo

a natatarid ti agong ken dagiti bugagaw a mata–uray ta

adda met katukad a grasia ken kinarang-ay iti tunggal tedted

ti ling-et ken lua ken uray pay dara: kukuada ngamin ti pigsa

ken sirib ken no dadduma, uray payen ti dayaw ken kararuada

iti daytoy ganggannaet ken makailado iti nakaro a lam-ek

a nakaisadsadan: wen, isuda dagiti annak ti ulimek

ken adipen ti arapaap a nagbalkot kadagiti tampong

ti ipapanaw iti nakaikalian kadagiti kadkaduada—

timmayabda iti tangatang ti pannakigasanggasat;

nagdissoda nga imetda ti isem nga adda kasinginna

a buteng ken ngatangata: tumapogda kadagiti kinelleng

itoy kaniebean a lugar nga ammoda a dida nakairuaman

(wen, tinarayanda dagiti rarasa ken tarindanum: impanawda

dagiti ringiadan a dapan iti rabaw ti daga nga iti unos

ti nasurok a kagudua ti panagbiagda, padasenda a dapadapen

iti sabali ken bangir a pingping ti langit—kas kunada sakbayna—

a, no ammoda la koma a bangir gayam ti impierno iti uniberso!)

 

 

ii.

tumangadda laengen iti nalulem a langit: apay a kasla

naatap ti raya ti init kadakuada iti daytoy bangir ti lubong

a simmirokanda? apay a saan a sapasap ti imeng ken talimeng

ti panawen para kadakuada? iti daga a nakakalakalanda, isuda

dagiti matangtangad a puli ken adda bukodda a de-aircon

a kuadrado a lubongda a pagbilanganda kadagiti rinepreppet

a bileg: no apay a tinaluntonda pay laeng ti dana ti genesis

tapno laeng sagrapenda dagiti nadawel a baybay ken tangatang

ti apokalipsis: apay ngamin a nasken a tarayan (no dadduma,

adu kadakuada ti mangtallikud) ti nakairuaman a pul-oy

iti sab-ok ti makadadang ken nabang-i nga aglawlaw

tapno laeng umayda ipakutimermer ti kayumanggi a kudilda

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Children of Silence

 

Prodie Gar. Padios

 

 

i.

they would just whack off the bolo of rage

in the flesh and bone of decaying hope:

they let the one in; the other they let it out in the other ear

the screams of bosses that batter the heart and person

them whose noses are aquiline and whose eyes are blue—

there is

the equivalent grace and progress in each drop

of sweat and tear and even blood:

they own all of the strength

and brilliance and sometimes, even the honor and soul

in this land that is strange and which makes you freeze

this land you came to: really, they are the children of silence

and slaves of a dream that wrapped the bag used for leaving

the very land where their placenta has been buried deep—

in the skies they flew in that game of fate-seeking;

they landed and with them is their load of smile that is twin

to fear and doubting: they get into the fields

of this land of snow they know they are not used to

(right, they ran away from all the wounds: they left

with their cracked feet away from the land

they have lived half of their life, to try to trod

the other side of heaven—this they say beforehand—

that if they ever knew it is the other side of hell in the world!)

 

 

ii. 

they look up to the cloudy skies: why is it that the ray

of the sun is far from them in this side of the world

they took shelter in? why is it that the warmth and comfort

of the season is not even to them? in that earth where

they were uprooted, they are being looked up to

they have their own air-conditioned room

their own square world where they count their bound power:

why did they ever follow the path to genesis

only to suffer in the high seas and stormy skies

of apocalypsis: why is it that it is necessary to leave behind

(sometimes, many of them even betray) the breeze they know

in that bosom of warm and fresh surroundings

only to come here and quiver with their brown skin

in this place they say is the pasture that is greener…

 

 

iii.

ah, these are the souls that do not permit themselves to starve

they are molded in the fiery oven of power and wit and industry

whichever part of the world they end up

this world that is breathing,

they too would take part of the food offering

for the gods, their share of ingredients, sweetness, bitterness:

they are silent but they are able to help out in each stage

of progress: their families. the future of their race. the fruit

of the living blood. and even the power of their homeland

they ran away from (but could not do): what stalks of gold

they give back fills a church in the granary of the people—

that is said to be replaced (is there a dwarf taking away those)

with ashes.

 

ah, even if they raise their fist

and point their finger at the storm

 

nature bursts with: but can they ever do something except

 

to face in silence the drizzle released by the powerful kings

 

of termites and gnats; and the leech and crocodiles

 

seated on their borrowed thrones?

 

 

the tears have dried up on their cheeks: verily, they have forgotten

 

how to shed a tear. their chest have softened, their honor and person

 

as well: you chop off their point fingers but now these have gone numb

 

writing on the canvass the breeze released by the snow colder than the dead:

 

“in this part of the world, we put in the testament—through our blood

  

and sweat—the power and brilliance and patience of our being brown:

  

if only for (in the molding of the future and the sharpness of the bolo)

  

our own race!” 

  

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