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Lamberto E. Antonio

Dubbed the third 'corner' in the triumvirate of poets leading the second wave of the modernist movement in Tagalog poetry in the 60s (the other two being Rio Alma and Rogelio G. Mangahas), Lamberto E. Antonio is usually considered the most lyric in style of the three. But he is, of course, as versatile as the others. He involved himself in journalism, editorship, translation,  and film writing, among others. He wrote  the script for the classic Lino Brocka film, Insang. Antonio's latest recognition is the Dangal ni Balagtas Award from the Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino. He is member of the Palanca Hall of Fame, several times recipient of the National Book Award, most notable of which is his Pingkian at Apat Pang Aklat ng Tunggalian, which is an epic on the life of the hero Emilio Jacinto.

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Ang Unang Sulyap sa Taóng 1967

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Ang mga tao’y

Uod sa bunganga ng simbahang-Quiapo—­

Isang uri ng natungkab na nitso;

Sa loob,

Naaagnas na bangkay

Ang bawat pari at santo.

First Glimpse of the Year 1967

 

The multitude

Was like maggots at the gaping maw of Quiapo Church—

A kind of concrete grave pried open;

Inside,

Each priest and saint

Was a rotting corpse.

Paghihintay ng Unang Ulan ng Mayo

 

 

Mauling ang langit at uuga-ugang sergang walang sampay.

Sa gawing tumana, atungal ng kambing.

Sinisimulan nang isilong ng Lola

Ang dahon ng tabakong nakalatag sa tabing-kalsada.

May kagampang sabik na naghihintay sa ulan:

Hawak ang isang prasko at inuusisa ang alulod.

Hubad-barong nagtatakbuhan ang ilang musmos,

May isinisigaw tungkol sa salagubang.

Buwan na nga pala ng mga bulaklak…

(Buwan na ang unang pag-ulan ay dapat sahurin,

Sang-ayon sa huklubang haka.)

Pipikit na rin ng mga bitak sa pinitak.

At darapo ang tagak sa likod ng kalabaw.

 

Minasdan ko ang mga punongkahoy

Na nagtatakwil ng tuyong dahon.

At nang sumigid sa buto ko ang hanging malamig,

Nanamlay ako sa pasamano

At nagsindi ng sigarilyo.                                

Waiting for the First Rain of May

 

The sky was smudged with charcoal and the empty clothesline swung.

Towards the slope, bleat of goat.

Grandmother has started taking into the shade

The tobacco leaves laid out to dry at roadside.

A pregnant woman was eagerly awaiting the rain:

Carrying a bottle, she looked up and surveyed the eaves.

Naked children chased each other,

Shouting something about beetles and bugs.

Oh, reminds me, the month of flowers has come…

(The month when the first rain must be saved and stored,

According to the ancient notion.)

The cracks will close like eyelids among the paddies.

The herons will come and alight upon the backs of carabaos.

 

I gazed at the trees

That had shed their dried leaves.

And when the wind brought the chill to my bones,

I felt weak and tired at the window sill

And lit a cigarette.

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