An Istorya Ninda, An Osipon Ta / Their Historia, Our Osipon Poem by Jaime Jesus Borlagdan

Sa altar baga kan makasuriaw na suriyaw kan puti
sa puting simbahan sinermon ninda satuya
kun ano an kamarayan kan saindang pagdatong.
Napano su simbahan ki mga ragot kan ngipon.
Ta sa dara nindang korona kita an hadi
sa krus, kita su may nakatadok na espada.
Naitaram na ninda an saindang istorya.
Punan ta na man su satong osipon.

Punan ta kan magbuhat sinda
hali sa kama kan lanog tang laman.
Saimo na giraray ini sabi ninda
sa sarong disyerto ki tulang buda paha.
Itaram ta man daw na iba an kinaban
na pigmamaanan kan naaatugan.

Huyan sa labod sa saimong pulso
an halawig tang pagpulugos-pugos
hali sa pagkakalawig sa gadan na sabsaban.
Pugtas na an lubid, huni man giraray kita
nagtatalibong sa marang kaawagan.
Sa hampang kaining pasang litrato,
taramon ta man daw an rayo kan pararaot
sa paragibo.

Pasiring na sa tuom na kabasan,
pasiring na sa lati na pigliligidan kan layas.
Puni na an paghidaw. Puni na an pagluwas
hali sa kwartong pano ki luha, puni na
an paghiling sa luwas kan bintana.
Puni na an paghidaw para sa binayaan.
Puni na an pagsulit sa daluging tinimakan.
Puni na an paghidaw sa mga sinugbang utoban.

Uyam na sa istorya kan among may nagdudugong latigo
su osipon naman kan ayam na sa irarom kan lamesa nagdadago.
Ano na su mga suntok sa paril na lanob?
Ano na su suriyaw na tinahuban kan ulunan?

Huni na kita gabos, palibot sa ilaw kan karaba.
Huni na kita gabos. Sa bulod na nagpaparahay,
huni na kita gabos. Rumdumon ta kun sain
kita napundo, kun sisay su hudyan na nag-osip,
huni na kita gabos, padagoson niya na.
Kun dai na siyang maidudugang,
punan na kan iba, basta punan na,
huni na kita gabos, punan na.

English:

In the altar of the blinding scream of white
on a white church they have sermoned to us
the goodness of their arrival.
The church was filled with grounding teeth.
For with the crown they bore we are the king
in the cross, we are the one with the sword-stab.
They have told their historia.
Let's begin with our osipon.

Let's start when they rose
from the bed of our beaten body.
This is yours again, they said
to a desert of bones and thirst.
Let us at least tell them the difference
of the world view of the trampled upon.

There in the scar in your wrist
is our long struggling
from being herded to a dead pasture.
The ropes are cut, still here we are
wandering around the dry clearing.
In front of this broken picture,
let us speak of the distance between the destroyer
and the maker.

Head now to the unforgotten field,
head now to the meadows rolled over by the wild.
Initiate the longing. Start the stepping out
of a room filled with tears, begin
looking out of the window.
Begin the longing for the abandoned.
Start mending the sprouts stepped upon.
Begin the longing for the burned icons.

Fed up with the story of the lord with a bleeding whip
it's time to hear of the dog moaning under the table.
What of the blows on the concrete wall?
What of the wails muffled by the pillow?

Here we are now, around the light of a torch.
Here we are now. In the healing hills,
here we are now. Let us remember where
we had stopped, who was the last teller,
we are here now, let him continue.
If he has nothing to add,
let the others begin, as long as we begin,
here we are now, let us begin.