assignment .5

Ang mga Kagilagilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Juan de la Cruz
		Jose F. Lacaba Isang gabing madilim puno ng pangambang sumakay sa bus si Juan de la Cruz pusturang pustura kahit walang laman ang bulsa BAWAL MANIGARILYO BOSS sabi ng konduktora at minura si Juan de la Cruz. Pusturang-pustura kahit walang laman ang bulsa nilakad ni Juan de la Cruz ang buong Avenida BAWAL PUMARADA sabi ng kalsada BAWAL UMIHI DITO sabi ng bakod kaya napagod si Juan de la Cruz. Nang abutan ng gutom si Juan de la Cruz tumapat sa Ma Mon Luk inamoy ang mami siopao lumpia pansit hanggang sa mabusog. Nagdaan sa Sine Dalisay Tinitigan ang retrato ni Chichay PASSES NOT HONORED TODAY tabi ng takilyera tawa nang tawa. Dumalaw sa Konggreso si Juan de la Cruz MAG-INGAT SA ASO sabi ng diputado Nagtuloy sa Malakanyang wala namang dalang kamanyang KEEP OFF THE GRASS sabi ng hardinero sabi ng sundalo kay Juan de la Cruz. Nang dapuan ng libog si Juan de la Cruz namasyal sa Culiculi at nahulog sa pusali parang espadang bali-bali YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD BUT WE NEED CASH sabi ng bugaw sabay higop ng sabaw. Pusturang-pustura kahit walang laman ang bulsa naglibot sa Dewey si Juan de la Cruz PAN-AM BAYSIDE SAVOY THEY SATISFY sabi ng neon. Humikab ang dagat na parang leon masarap sanang tumalon pero BAWAL MAGTAPON NG BASURA sabi ng alon. Nagbalik sa Quiapo si Juan de la Cruz at medyo kinakabahan pumasok sa simbahan IN GOD WE TRUST sabi ng obispo ALL OTHERS PAY CASH. Nang wala nang malunok si Juan de la Cruz dala-dala'y gulok gula-gulanit na ang damit wala pa rin laman ang bulsa umakyat         Sa Arayat                       ang namayat na si Juan de la Cruz WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE sabi ng PC at sinisi ang walanghiyang kabataan kung bakit sinulsulan ang isang tahimik na mamamayan na tulad ni Juan de la Cruz

assignment .5

Katapusang Hibik Ng Pilipinas
Andres Bonifacio
Spanish Period
Sumikat na Ina sa sinisilangan ang araw ng poot ng Katagalugan, tatlong daang taong aming iningatan sa dagat ng dusa ng karalitaan. Walang isinuhay kaming iyong anak sa bagyong masasal ng dalita't hirap; iisa ang puso nitong Pilipinas at ikaw ay di na Ina naming lahat. Sa kapuwa Ina'y wala kang kaparis... ang layaw ng anak: dalita't pasakit; pag nagpatirapang sa iyo'y humibik, lunas na gamot mo ay kasakit-sakit. Gapusing mahigpit ang mga Tagalog, hinain sa sikad, kulata at suntok, makinahi't biting parang isang hayop; ito baga, Ina, ang iyong pag-irog? Ipabilanggo mo't sa dagat itapon; barilin, lasunin, nang kami'y malipol. Sa aming Tagalog, ito baga'y hatol Inang mahabagin, sa lahat ng kampon? Aming tinitiis hanggang sa mamatay; bangkay nang mistula'y ayaw pang tigilan, kaya kung ihulog sa mga libingan, linsad na ang buto't lumuray ang laman. Wala nang namamana itong Pilipinas na layaw sa Ina kundi pawang hirap; tiis ay pasulong, patente'y nagkalat, rekargo't impuwesto'y nagsala-salabat. Sarisaring silo sa ami'y inisip, kasabay ng utos na tuparing pilit, may sa alumbrado---kaya kaming tikis, kahit isang ilaw ay walang masilip. Ang lupa at buhay na tinatahanan, bukid at tubigang kalawak-lawakan, at gayon din pati ng mga halaman, sa paring Kastila ay binubuwisan. Bukod pa sa rito'y ang mga iba pa, huwag nang saysayin, O Inang Espanya, sunod kaming lahat hanggang may hininga, Tagalog di'y siyang minamasama pa. Ikaw nga, O Inang pabaya't sukaban, kami'y di na iyo saan man humanggan, ihanda mo, Ina, ang paglilibingan sa mawawakawak na maraming bangkay. Sa sangmaliwanag ngayon ay sasabog ang barila't kanyong katulad ay kulog, ang sigwang masasal sa dugong aagos ng kanilang bala na magpapamook. Di na kailangan sa iyo ng awa ng mga Tagalog, O Inang kuhila, paraiso namin ang kami'y mapuksa, langit mo naman ang kami'y madusta. Paalam na Ina, itong Pilipinas, paalam na Ina, itong nasa hirap, paalam, paalam, Inang walang habag, paalam na ngayon, katapusang tawag.

assignment .5

THE STORY OF BANTUGAN

Moro

Before the Spaniards occupied the island of Mindanao, there lived in the valley of the Rio Grande a very strong man, Bantugan, whose father was the brother of the earthquake and thunder.  146
Now the Sultan of the Island  147 had a beautiful daughter whom Bantugan wished to marry, but the home of the Sultan was far off, and whoever went to carry Bantugan's proposal would have a long and hazardous journey. All the head men consulted together regarding who should be sent, and at last it was decided that Bantugan's own son, Balatama, was the one to go. Balatama was young but he was strong and brave, and when the arms of his father were given him to wear on the long journey his heart swelled with pride. More than once on the way, however, his courage was tried, and only the thought of his brave father gave him strength to proceed.
Once he came to a wooden fence which surrounded a stone in the form of a man, and as it was directly in his path he drew his fighting knife to cut down the fence. Immediately the air became as black as night and stones rained down as large as houses. This made Balatama cry, but he protected himself with his father's shield and prayed, calling on the winds from the homeland until they came and cleared the air again.
Thereupon Balatama encountered a great snake  148 in the road, and it inquired his errand. When told, the snake said:
"You cannot go on, for I am guard of this road and no one can pass."
The animal made a move to seize him, but with one stroke of his fighting knife the boy cut the snake into two pieces, one of which he threw into the sea and the other into the mountains.
After many days the weary lad came to a high rock in the road, which glistened in the sunlight. From the top he could look down into the city for which he was bound. It was a splendid place with ten harbors. Standing out from the other houses was one of crystal and another of pure gold. Encouraged by this sight he went on, but though it seemed but a short distance, it was some time before he at last stood at the gate of the town.
It was not long after this, however, before Balatama had made known his errand to the Sultan, and that monarch, turning to his courtiers, said: "You, my friends, decide whether or not I shall give the hand of my daughter to Bantugan in marriage."
The courtiers slowly shook their heads and began to offer objections.
Said one, "I do not see how Bantugan can marry the Sultan's daughter because the first gift must be a figure of a man or woman in pure gold."
"Well," said the son of Bantugan, "I am here to learn what you want and to say whether or not it can be given."
Then a second man spoke: "You must give a great yard with a floor of gold, which must be three feet thick."
"All this can be given," answered the boy.
And the sister of the Princess said: "The gifts must be as many as the blades of grass in our city."
"It shall be granted," said Balatama.
"You must give a bridge built of stone to cross the great river," said one.
And another: "A ship of stone you must give, and you must change into gold all the cocoanuts and leaves in the Sultan's grove."
"All this can be done," said Balatama. "My uncles will give all save the statue of gold, and that I shall give myself. But first I must go to my father's town to secure it."
At this they were angry and declared that he had made sport of them and unless he produced the statue at once they would kill him.
"If I give you the statue now," said he, "there will come dreadful storms, rain, and darkness."
But they only laughed at him and insisted on having the statue, so he reached in his helmet and drew it forth.
Immediately the earth began to quake. A great storm arose, and stones as large as houses rained until the Sultan called to Balatama to put back the statue lest they all be killed.
"You would not believe what I told you," said the boy; "and now I am going to let the storm continue."
But the Sultan begged him and promised that Bantugan might marry his daughter with no other gifts at all save the statue of gold. Balatama put back the statue into his helmet, and the air became calm again to the great relief of the Sultan and his courtiers. Then Balatama prepared to return home, promising that Bantugan would come in three months for the wedding.
All went well with the boy on the way home until he came to the fence surrounding the stone in the form of a man, and there he was detained and compelled to remain four months.
Now about this time a Spanish general heard that Bantugan was preparing to marry the Sultan's daughter, whom he determined to wed himself. A great expedition was prepared, and he with all his brothers embarked on his large warship which was followed by ten thousand other ships. They went to the Sultan's city, and their number was so great that they filled the harbor, frightening the people greatly.
Then the General's brother disembarked and came to the house of the Sultan. He demanded the Princess for the General, saying that if the request were refused, the fleet would destroy the city and all its people. The Sultan and his courtiers were so frightened that they decided to give his daughter to the General, the next full moon being the date set for the wedding.
In the meantime Bantugan had been preparing everything for the marriage which he expected to take place at the appointed time. But as the days went by and Balatama did not return, they became alarmed, fearing he was dead. After three months had passed, Bantugan prepared a great expedition to go in search of his son, and the great warship was decorated with flags of gold.
As they came in sight of the Sultan's city, they saw the Spanish fleet in the harbor, and one of his brothers advised Bantugan not to enter until the Spaniards left They then brought their ship to anchor. But all were disappointed that they could not go farther, and one said, "Why do we not go on? Even if the blades of grass turn into Spaniards we need not fear." Another said: "Why do we fear? Even if the cannon-balls come like rain, we can always fight." Finally some wanted to return to their homes and Bantugan said: "No, let us seek my son. Even though we must enter the harbor where the Spaniards are, let us continue our search." So at his command the anchors were lifted, and they sailed into the harbor where the Spanish fleet lay.
Now at this very time the Spanish general and his brother were with the Sultan, intending to call upon the Princess. As the brother talked with one of the sisters of the Princess they moved toward the window, and looking down they saw Bantugan's ships entering the harbor. They could not tell whose flags the ships bore. Neither could the Sultan when he was called. Then he sent his brother to bring his father who was a very old man, to see if he could tell. The father was kept in a little dark room by himself that he might not get hurt, and the Sultan said to his brother:
"If he is so bent with age that he cannot see, talk, or walk, tickle him in the ribs and that will make him young again; and, my Brother, carry him here yourself lest one of the slaves should let him fall and he should hurt himself."
So the old man was brought, and when he looked out upon the ships he saw that the flags were those of the father of Bantugan who had been a great friend of his in his youth. And he told them that he and Bantugan's father years ago had made a contract that their children and children's children should intermarry, and now since the Sultan had promised his daughter to two people, he foresaw that great trouble would come to the land. Then the Sultan said to the General:
"Here are two claimants to my daughter's hand. Go aboard your ships and you and Bantugan make war on each other, and the victor shall have my daughter."
So the Spaniards opened fire upon Bantugan, and for three days the earth was so covered with smoke from the battle that neither could see his enemy. Then the Spanish general said:
"I cannot see Bantugan or the fleet anywhere, so let us go and claim the Princess."
But the Sultan said: "We must wait until the smoke rises to make sure that Bantugan is gone."
When the smoke rose, the ships of Bantugan were apparently unharmed and the Sultan said:
"Bantugan has surely won, for his fleet is uninjured while yours is badly damaged. You have lost."
"No," said the General, "we will fight it out on dry land."
So they both landed their troops and their cannon, and a great fight took place, and soon the ground was covered with dead bodies. And the Sultan commanded them to stop, as the women and children in the city were being killed by the cannon-balls, but the General said:
"If you give your daughter to Bantugan we shall fight forever or until we die."
Then the Sultan sent for Bantugan and said:
"We must deceive the Spaniard in order to get him to go away. Let us tell him that neither of you will marry my daughter, and then after he has gone, we shall have the wedding."
Bantugan agreed to this, and word was sent to the Spaniards that the fighting must cease since many women and children were being killed. So it was agreed between the Spaniard and Bantugan that neither of them should marry the Princess. Then they both sailed away to their homes.
Bantugan soon returned, however, and married the Princess, and on the way back to his home they found his son and took him with them. For about a week the Spanish general sailed toward his home and then he, too, turned about to go back, planning to take the Princess by force. When he found that she had already been carried away by Bantugan, his wrath knew no bounds. He destroyed the Sultan, his city, and all its people. And then he sailed away to prepare a great expedition with which he should utterly destroy Bantugan and his country as well.
One morning Bantugan looked out and saw at the mouth of the Rio Grande the enormous fleet of the Spaniards whose numbers were so great that in no direction could the horizon be seen. His heart sank within him, for he knew that he and his country were doomed.
Though he could not hope to win in a fight against such great numbers, he called his headmen together and said:
"My Brothers, the Christian dogs have come to destroy the land. We cannot successfully oppose them, but in the defense of the fatherland we can die."
So the great warship was again prepared, and all the soldiers of Islam embarked, and then with Bantugan standing at the bow they sailed forth to meet their fate.
The fighting was fast and furious, but soon the great warship of Bantugan filled with water until at last it sank, drawing with it hundreds of the Spanish ships. And then a strange thing happened. At the very spot where Bantugan's warship sank, there arose from the sea a great island which you can see today not far from the mouth of the Rio Grande. It is covered with bongo palms, and deep within its mountains live Bantugan and his warriors. A Moro sailboat passing this island is always scanned by Bantugan's watchers, and if it contains women such as he admires, they are snatched from their seats and carried deep into the heart of the mountain. For this reason Moro women fear even to sail near the island of Bongos.
When the wife of Bantugan saw that her husband was no more and that his warship had been destroyed, she gathered together the remaining warriors and set forth herself to avenge him. In a few hours her ship was also sunk, and in the place where it sank there arose the mountain of Timaco.
On this thickly wooded island are found white monkeys, the servants of the Princess, who still lives in the center of the mountain. On a quiet day high up on the mountain side one can hear the chanting and singing of the waiting-girls of the wife of Bantugan.

assignment .5

May Bagyo Ma't Rilim

May bagyo ma't, may rilim
Ang ola'y, titiguisin,
Aco'y, magpipilit din:
Acquing paglalacbayin
Toloyin cong hanapin
Dios na ama namin.

Cun di man magupiling
Tocsong mabaomabaoin,
Aco'y, mangangahas din:
Itong libro'y, basahin,
At dito co hahangoin
Acquing sasandatahin.

Cun dati mang nabulag
Aco'y, pasasalamat,
Na ito ang liunag
Dios ang nagpahayag
Sa Padreng bagsiulat
Nitong mabuting sulat.

Naguiua ma't, nabagbag
Daloyong matataas,
Aco'y magsusumicad
Babagohin ang lacas;
Dito rin hahaguilap
Timbulang icaligtas.

Cun lompo ma't, cun pilay
Anong di icahacbang
Naito ang aacay
Magtuturo nang daan:
Toncod ay inilaan
Sucat pagcatibayan.

assignment .5

MY LAST FAREWELL (English Version)

Farewell, beloved Country, treasured region of the sun,
Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our lost Eden!
To you eagerly I surrender this sad and gloomy life;
And were it brighter, fresher, more florid,
Even then I’d give it to you, for your sake alone.

In fields of battle, deliriously fighting,
Others give you their lives, without doubt, without regret;
The place matters not: where there’s cypress, laurel or lily,
On a plank or open field, in combat or cruel martyrdom,
It’s all the same if the home or country asks.

I die when I see the sky has unfurled its colors
And at last after a cloak of darkness announces the day;
If you need scarlet to tint your dawn,
Shed my blood, pour it as the moment comes,
And may it be gilded by a reflection of the heaven’s newly-born light.

My dreams, when scarcely an adolescent,
My dreams, when a young man already full of life,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the sea of the Orient,
Dry those eyes of black, that forehead high,
Without frown, without wrinkles, without stains of shame.

My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire,
This soul that will soon depart cries out: Salud!
To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to give you flight,
To die to give you life, to die under your sky,
And in your enchanted land eternally sleep.

If upon my grave one day you see appear,
Amidst the dense grass, a simple humble flower,
Place it near your lips and my soul you’ll kiss,
And on my brow may I feel, under the cold tomb,
The gentle blow of your tenderness, the warmth of your breath.

Let the moon see me in a soft and tranquil light,
Let the dawn send its fleeting radiance,
Let the wind moan with its low murmur,
And should a bird descend and rest on my cross,
Let it sing its canticle of peace.

Let the burning sun evaporate the rains,
And with my clamor behind, towards the sky may they turn pure;
Let a friend mourn my early demise,
And in the serene afternoons, when someone prays for me,
O Country, pray to God also for my rest!

Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died,
For all who suffered torments unequaled,
For our poor mothers who in their grief and bitterness cry,
For orphans and widows, for prisoners in torture,
And for yourself pray that your final redemption you’ll see.

And when the cemetery is enveloped in dark night,
And there, alone, only those who have gone remain in vigil,
Disturb not their rest, nor the mystery,
And should you hear chords from a zither or psaltery,
It is I, beloved Country, singing to you.

And when my grave, then by all forgotten,
has not a cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let men plow and with a spade scatter it,
And before my ashes return to nothing,
May they be the dust that carpets your fields.

Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion.
Your atmosphere, your space and valleys I’ll cross.
I will be a vibrant and clear note to your ears,
Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and song,
Constantly repeating the essence of my faith.

My idolized country, sorrow of my sorrows,
Beloved Filipinas, hear my last good-bye.
There I leave you all, my parents, my loves.
I’ll go where there are no slaves, hangmen nor oppressors,
Where faith doesn’t kill, where the one who reigns is God.

Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters, fragments of my soul,
Childhood friends in the home now lost,
Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome day;
Goodbye, sweet foreigner, my friend, my joy;
Farewell, loved ones, to die is to rest.

By José Rizal, 1896

assignment .5

Mi Ultimo Adiós

Adios, Patria adorada, region del sol querida,
Perla del Mar de Oriente, nuestro perdido Eden!
A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
Y fuera más brillante más fresca, más florida,
Tambien por tí la diera, la diera por tu bien.

En campos de batalla, luchando con delirio
Otros te dan sus vidas sin dudas, sin pesar;
El sitio nada importa, ciprés, laurel ó lirio,
Cadalso ó campo abierto, combate ó cruel martirio,
Lo mismo es si lo piden la patria y el hogar.

Yo muero cuando veo que el cielo se colora
Y al fin anuncia el día trás lóbrego capuz;
Si grana necesitas para teñir tu aurora,
Vierte la sangre mía, derrámala en buen hora
Y dórela un reflejo de su naciente luz.

Mis sueños cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,
Mis sueños cuando joven ya lleno de vigor,
Fueron el verte un día, joya del mar de oriente
Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,
Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor.

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo,
Salud te grita el alma que pronto va á partir!
Salud! ah que es hermoso caer por darte vuelo,
Morir por darte vida, morir bajo tu cielo,
Y en tu encantada tierra la eternidad dormir.

Si sobre mi sepulcro vieres brotar un dia
Entre la espesa yerba sencilla, humilde flor,
Acércala a tus labios y besa al alma mía,
Y sienta yo en mi frente bajo la tumba fría
De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja á la luna verme con luz tranquila y suave;
Deja que el alba envíe su resplandor fugaz,
Deja gemir al viento con su murmullo grave,
Y si desciende y posa sobre mi cruz un ave
Deja que el ave entone su cantico de paz.

Deja que el sol ardiendo las lluvias evapore
Y al cielo tornen puras con mi clamor en pos,
Deja que un sér amigo mi fin temprano llore
Y en las serenas tardes cuando por mi alguien ore
Ora tambien, Oh Patria, por mi descanso á Dios!

Ora por todos cuantos murieron sin ventura,
Por cuantos padecieron tormentos sin igual,
Por nuestras pobres madres que gimen su amargura;
Por huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura
Y ora por tí que veas tu redencion final.

Y cuando en noche oscura se envuelva el cementerio
Y solos sólo muertos queden velando allí,
No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio
Tal vez acordes oigas de citara ó salterio,
Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto á ti.

Y cuando ya mi tumba de todos olvidada
No tenga cruz ni piedra que marquen su lugar,
Deja que la are el hombre, la esparza con la azada,
Y mis cenizas antes que vuelvan á la nada,
El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan á formar.

Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido,
Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré,
Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oido,
Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido
Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fé.

Mi Patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,
Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adios.
Ahi te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.
Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores,
Donde la fé no mata, donde el que reyna es Dios.

Adios, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,
Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,
Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;
Adios, dulce extrangera, mi amiga, mi alegria,
Adios, queridos séres morir es descansar.

Assignment number 4 epics

    Biag ni Lam-ang (Summary)

   
BIAG NI LAM-ANG (Life of Lam-ang) is pre-Hispanic epic poem of the Ilocano people of the Philippines.  The story was handed down orally for generations before it was written down around 1640 assumedly by a blind Ilokano bard named Pedro Bucaneg.

BUOD (SUMMARY) OF BIAG NI LAM-ANG

Don Juan and his wife Namongan lived in Nalbuan, now part of La Union in the northern part of the Philippines. They had a son named Lam-ang. Before Lam-ang was born, Don Juan went to the mountains in order to punish a group of their Igorot enemies. While he was away, his son Lam-ang was born. It took four people to help Namongan give birth. As soon as the baby boy popped out, he spoke and asked that he be given the name Lam-ang. He also chose his godparents and asked where his father was.

After nine months of waiting for his father to return, Lam-ang decided he would go look for him.  Namongan thought  Lam-ang was up to the challenge but she was sad to let him go. During his exhausting journey, he decided to rest for awhile. He fell asleep and had a dream about his father's head being stuck on a pole by the Igorot. Lam-ang was furious when he learned what had happened to his father. He rushed to their village and killed them all, except for one whom he let go so that he could tell other people about Lam-ang's greatness.

Upon returning to Nalbuan in triumph, he was bathed by women in the Amburayan river. All the fish died because of the dirt and odor from Lam-ang's body.

There was a young woman named Ines Kannoyan whom Lam-ang wanted to woo.  She lived in Calanutian and he brought along his white rooster and gray dog to visit her. On the way, Lam-ang met his enemy Sumarang, another suitor of Ines whom he fought and readily defeated.

Lam-ang found the house of Ines surrounded by  many suitors all of whom were trying to catch her attention.  He had his rooster crow, which caused a nearby house to fall.  This made Ines look out. He had his dog bark and in an instant the fallen house rose up again. The girl's parents witnessed this and called for him. The rooster expressed the love of Lam-ang. The parents agreed to a marriage with their daughter  if Lam-ang would give them a dowry valued at double their wealth. Lam-ang had no problem fulfilling this condition and he and Ines  were married.

It was a tradition to have a newly married man swim in the river for the rarang fish. Unfortunately, Lam-ang dove straight into the mouth of the water monster Berkakan. Ines had Marcos get his bones, which she covered with a piece of  cloth. His rooster crowed and his dog barked and slowly the bones started to move.  Back alive, Lam-ang and his wife lived happily ever after with his white rooster and gray dog.