A poem by Mesándel Virtusio Arguelles translated from Filipino by Kristine Ong Muslim.
Sumpa
by Mesándel Virtusio ArguellesDahil sa natuklasang hindi sa iyo
ang daigdig, gumuho
ang iyong daigdig. Ang iyong daigdig
na dahil hindi sa iyo
gumuho hindi dahil sa iyo
Hanggang tumindig ka sa ngayon
sa daigdig na sa wala nakatindig
Nais mong magpatuloy
pagkaraan ng lahat, pagkaraang lahat
ilahad. Ngayon
mahinahon ang mga tinig, wala na
ang nagsasalitang salitang minsan
mayroong sariling silbi. Mayroong silbi
ang sarili, nais mong masabi, sa sarili
sa huli, bilang pagtanda sa inaakalang buhay
Isusulat mo
ang sarili. Isusulat mo
sa bawat salitang pipiliin
upang maiharap ang sarili
sa bawat salitang tatalikuran
upang muli lamang mabigo
sa bawat pagtalikod
Sa araw na kailangan mo
nang magpaalam, hindi mo maiiwan
ang iyong silid. Sa huling sandali
ipapasya mong isilid ito sa iyong bulsa
Naroon ang iyong kama, mesita, ilaw
sa pagbabasa. Maglalakbay ka
mula roon nang hindi iniiwan
ang iyong silid. Sa muli’t muling pagpasok
dito, kailangan mong laging magpaalam
Bawat araw, hindi mo maiiwan
ang iyong silid. Sa iyong bulsa
bawat huling sandali, ito ang iyong isinisilid
Sa sandaling ito, muli mong isusumpang mabuhay
para sa sining
Curse
by Mesándel Virtusio ArguellesBecause you discovered that
the world was not yours, your world
crashed. Your world
that just because was not yours
crashed but not because of you
Until you stand up now
to a world that stands on nothing
You want to continue
after everything had come to pass, after everything
was made known. Now
the voices are calm, no longer
one utters a word that once
had its use. The self had use
for the self, you wished to say
in the end to commemorate what passes for life
You will write
yourself. You will write
on every word you will choose
in order to submit yourself
to every word you will renounce
in order to once again fail
in every renunciation
On the day you need
to say goodbye, you cannot walk away from
your room. At the last moment
you will decide to slip it inside your pocket
There’s your bed, small table, lamp
for reading. You will travel
from thereon without leaving
your room. In your frequent reentry
into it, you need to always ask for permission
Each day, you cannot walk away from
your room. Inside your pocket
every last moment, you slip it in
At this moment, you curse once again having lived
for art
translated from Filipino by Kristine Ong Muslim