May iniisip ka?
Ayaw kong sabihin. Baka magkatotoo.
Dahil makulit ka
Kilala kita. Oo, ikaw 'yun: Nagkasalubong na tayo minsan, sa LRT, sa Gotohan, sa kanto ng Aurora at Katipunan. Nagkatinginan tayo. Hindi mo ako kinausap, pero alam ko, nakilala mo rin ako. Kaya ka narito, di ba? Para sabihing, Oo, oo, ikaw nga 'yun. Naaalala kita.
na, mula noong 24 Enero, 2006, ang nakitambay dito
wanna try my kung fu?
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Tangina. Kailangan kong matutong mag-intsik. Walang biro. Dahil astig ang mga oldies na makata nila. (Namin?)
The Weaker the Wine Su Tung P'o (1036-1101)
“The weakest wine is better than warm water. Rags are better than no clothes at all. An ugly wife and a quarrelsome concubine Are better than an empty house.”
The weaker the wine, The easier it is to drink two cups. The thinner the robe, The easier it is to wear it double. Ugliness and beauty are opposites, But when you’re drunk, one is as good as the other. Ugly wives and quarrelsome concubines, The older they grow, the more they’re alike. Live unknown if you would realize your end. Follow the advice of your common sense. Avoid the Imperial Audience Chamber, the Eastern Flowery Hall. The dust of the times and the wind of the Northern Pass. One hundred years is a long time, But at last it comes to an end. Meanwhile it is no greater accomplishment To be a rich corpse or a poor one. Jewels of jade and pearl are put in the mouths Of the illustrious dead To conserve their bodies. They do them no good, but after a thousand years, They feed the robbers of their tombs. As for literature, it is its own reward. Fortunately fools pay little attention to it. A chance for graft Makes them blush with joy. Good men are their own worst enemies. Wine is the best reward of merit. In all the world, good and evil, Joy and sorrow, are in fact Only aspects of the Void.
Banquet at the Tso Family Manor Tu Fu (713-770) The windy forest is checkered By the light of the setting, Waning moon. I tune the lute, Its strings are moist with dew. The brook flows in the darkness Below the flower path. The thatched Roof is crowned with constellations. As we write the candles burn short. Our wits grow sharp as swords while The wine goes round. When the poem Contest is ended, someone Sings a song of the South. And I think of my little boat, And long to be on my way.
Sorrows of Departure Li Ch'ing Chao (1084-1151)
Red lotus incense fades on The jeweled curtain. Autumn Comes again. Gently I open My silk dress and float alone On the orchid boat. Who can Take a letter beyond the clouds? Only the wild geese come back And write their ideograms On the sky under the full Moon that floods the West Chamber. Flowers, after their kind, flutter And scatter. Water after Its nature, when spilt, at last Gathers again in one place. Creatures of the same species Long for each other. But we Are far apart and I have Grown learned in sorrow. Nothing can make it dissolve And go away. One moment, It is on my eyebrows. The next, it weighs on my heart.
Magnolia Hermitage Wang Wei (701-761)
The autumn hills hoard scarlet from the setting sun. Flying birds chase their mates, Now and then patches of blue sky break clear— Tonight the evening mists find nowhere to gather.
Zhu Yin Ta Xin QiJi (1140-1207)
Precious hairpin, broken, halved At the Peach-Leaf Ferry where We parted; darkening mist and willow shround the place. I dread to climb the tower-top stair; Nine days out of ten wind raves, rain torrents race: It breaks my heart to see the scarlet petals scatter one by one. All this with nobody to care Above it - who is there To bid the oriole's singing cease? From mirrored flowers that frame my face I pluck the petals, try to foretell your return, Counting and re-counting them a thousand ways. By silken curtains dimly lit Words borne of dreams fight in my throat for release. It was he, the Spring, who brought on me this agony of grief; Who knows where Spring now strays? He did not guess he should have gone Taking my grief in his embrace.