Category: Poetry

Nelson Dino, original teext and translation

Higung Dagang 

Daing ha daplak Bongao, tulak liyayag,
Pa kapuan Sandakan, usaha tagak
Ha lansa miyagad, dagat bilu siyabulak
Layag tagna sintak, simung agak-agak.

Silak suga timapil, ha alun limahil
Waktu simibug mandil, paluang in biyangkil
Laud bahaya iyuntas, liyukisan labay bansil
Subuh na iyabutan, alta magad himasil.

Pamapa subangan, sutla in hinangan
Ha parian Sandakan jinis niya diyagang
Ha kakayaan Bongao pa mussa, gusi kalang
In luwan darahan, tugub suysuy bilang
Duwal waktu in makaiyan.

Uh, kaw higung dagang, ha hangin simampang-
Parsugpatan wayi bugtu, umantas dagat larang
Ha Bongao pa Sandakan suysuy kamaasan
Ha sulatan salasila yaun saun kiyakissa.

Labay huakag-hanung, asal masi matunung
Ha saka dagang bilang, dapat di masulak laung
Ha Bongao pa Sandakan, tulak sampang liyangan,
Tumalik duun angan, tubuan sin dagangan.

Tempest Trade 

From Bongao’s shores, we set our sails,
To Sandakan’s distant isles, our trading trails
In wooden vessels, on the azure sea,
We journeyed forth, adventurous and free.

The sun kissed the waves in a rhythmic dance.
As we navigated, we took our chance.
Through perilous waters, we charted our way
Trading treasures at the break of day.

Spices from the east and textiles made of silk
In Sandakan’s markets, we traded our ilk.
From Bongao’s bounty to pearls and rare shells,
our cargo held stories that only time can tell.

Oh, the whispers of trade in the ocean’s breeze—a
timeless connection across the seas.
From Bongao to Sandakan, a tale of old,
In the annals of history, our story’s told.

Through tempests and calm, we’d always persist. In
this ancient trade, we could not resist.
From Bongao to Sandakan, our journeys would
show the beauty of trading, where dreams could
grow.

Bud Bongao Barakatan

Ha puntuk bud sussi aku timindug,
Sulad panugpat hipu alamat sin lupa punud,
Lumawag kasambuhan tawag sin kamaasan,
Magdayaw siratulrahim, sugpat pa katan.

Titib in labayan ha tikanganku,
Ulangig makusug bati liyabayan waktu,
Halaum hagas hangin, kulanas dahun,
Hikmah sin adat hanunut himablun.

Ha babaan langit wayi jangkaan,
Aku naglawag kusug miyaksud sin liuran,
Iban panghulmat, simulad pa puntuk sussi
Balikan in parsugpatan, magtibuuk magkasi.

Hangin dupuy malanu, napas hiyangbus,
Parasahan niyanam hiyabulan sin alam,
Isa-isa hi baran, matarrang in jawaban,
Adat pasambuhun, luha igan kahinyul.

Kamulliya sin puntuk Bongao, sahaya mahinaat,
Dunya biyukisan, batuk in kasabbulan,
Hiyablunan kissa, nagsulabit mattan,
Ha tiranan sussi rahmat kiyasambanan.

Bihaun nakauna, bannang adat mari biyutuk,
Sulad magpasambuh, sussi in sapa gutuk,
Ha Bud Bongao barakatan ini aku natibuuk,
Sugpatan atay ginhawa, amu miyaksud.

In tiyap tikangku, magparayaw butuk,
Ha antara sin nyawa iban langit angut,
Ha puntuk bud sussi, rahmat naabut,
Pali adat piyauli, tampat sussi in labut.

Sacred Bongao Peak

On the sacred mountain’s lofty crest, I stand,
A journey steeped in mystic ties to land,
A healing quest, my spirit’s ancient call,
To mend the bonds that link us, one and all.

The path is steep, and with every step I take,
I feel the echoes of the past awake.
In whispers of the wind and rustling leaves,
The wisdom of our culture softly weaves.

Beneath the canopy of an endless sky,
I seek the strength our ancestors imply.
With reverence, I climb this sacred peak.
To mend the ties and gain unity, we seek.

The air is pure, and with every breath I breathe,
I sense the power of nature’s gentle sheath.
In solitude, I find the answers clear.
To heal our culture, wipe away the tears.

The Bongao peak’s glory in the morning light,
Reveals a world where ancient meets the right.
A weave of stories, interlaced,
In this sacred space, I find my grace.

I tie my culture’s threads, both past and now,
A healing journey, an ancient sacred vow,
On this majestic mountain, I am made whole.
Reconnecting the heart and soul, a healing goal.

With every step I take, I mend the ties,
Between my spirit and the ancient skies,
On the sacred Bongao Peak, I find my grace,
Healing culture’s wounds in this sacred space.

Beyang

Ha kawman higad dagat, namilu-milu
Awun Beyang magsuruy, atay maamu
Magsasab marayaw, tawag bi na kamu
Magdagang daya laud, kaku iban kaniyu.

Sin parat suga pais niya diyapuan,
Uyum mamanis bayhu sahaya puan,
Mimindit ambung ista luunan,
Gimigiik buhangin ha tiranan bulawan.

Mata sumuysuy kissa sin laud, malaum-laum,
Sin pagtulak tungud pa alun, limaya talun,
Sambil ha daplakan ista giyulung,
Ha kissa sin laud, siya nangayu tulung.

Daing ha lumahan pilak pa ullang asibi,
Makuyag aku, kitaniyu siya nagbakti,
Kawman kimalang ha tikang niya nagbukti,
Pagkita sin pipindit hi Beyang taukasi.

Pagka suga timugum, hinang salassay,
Tikang ha paratan, mahapun muwi pa bay,
Hi Beyang aturun, dungdungan silay,
In kissa niya iban ista, tuyu kita’ salay.

Jari ha kawman ini laud magkalang,
Limbay hi Beyang limangsa, masang
Imanyan ambung sin laud iban ginlupaan,
Sin lima malasahun, ha padlima kubalan.

A Bajau Lady

In a village by the sea so blue,
A Bajau lady, her heart so true,
She roams with grace, a fishmonger’s call,
Selling treasures from the ocean, for me and you.

Her skin kissed by the sun’s warm embrace,
A smile that lights up her weathered face,
With woven baskets of fish in hand,
She treads the sands of the golden strand.

Her eyes tell stories of the deep, deep sea.
Of adventures, of waves wild and free,
With every fish she lays on the shore,
A tale of the ocean, she does implore.

From mackerel silver to shrimp so small,
Her offerings delight one and all,
The village hums with her lively stride,
As the Bajau lady’s wares are eyed.

With the setting sun, her work is done,
Homeward bound, under the evening sun,
The Bajau lady, a sight to behold,
In her stories and fish, her spirit unfolds.

So, in this village where the ocean sings,
A Bajau lady with her gossamer wings,
She weaves a basket of sea and land,
In the palm of her weathered, loving hand.

Gamson Jr Mawallil Quijano
English translation by Warina Sushil A. Jukuy

Sawa Bulan

I
Katumtuman mu pa ba
Ha düwm bulan masawa
Bang pagpatay-ilaw na
Waktu katakata na

II
Katakata hi apu’
Malami nakalandu’
Ha pagkatawa namu’
Sambil pa si’pun tumu’

III
Kāmu’ niya hisalasila
Kahālan sin pu’ gimba
Ha waktu kunu’ nila
Lima siyn malaggü’ na

IV
Mga kakasi magtipun
In pārsugpatan buhiun
Misan way internet cellphone
Laksa’ kaküwgan nanamun

V
Sahaya sawa bulan
In kami magdüyagan
Ha tapus dān manayam
In hibuk namu’ daman

VI
Sawa bulan sahaya
Nagdara kasilasa
Bang ikabalik sadja
Butawanan kaw di’ na

Supermoon

I
Do you still remember?
On a night the moon shines brightest
Once the lights are off
It’s storytelling… time!

II
Folktales of Apu’
Oh my! How uproarious
Laughing hard we hoot
Until our nasal mucus oozed

III
To us she would narrate
Anecdotes from hinterlands to coast
In their age of yore
Five cents’ more than valuable

IV
All our cherished ones converge
To revive interrelations
Even sans internet cellphone
In our hearts infinite elation stoked

V
Luminous full moon shine
How so rambunctious we are
On the road we play in glee
How rowdy our gaming spree

VI
How effulgent the Supermoon
Glad tidings of love and affection
If only I can turn back Hands of Time
Never would I ever let you go!

Lasa Ku Mag-anud Masi Ha Dugu’

I
Kaymu misan nakalayu’
Kasilasa way nabugtu’
Ha jantung punud tiyataw’
Mag anud masi ha dugu’

II
Hula’ takaw kalasahan
Hula’ kiyapag anakan
Ikaw in kiyasuligan
Hula’ kaapu’-apuan

III
Süga misan pa tumu’gum
Dagat luminaw, umalun
Kāhapun, bihayaun, künsüwm
Masi ra kaw tiyutümtüm

IV
Ha lupa’ mu kiyatanum
Kasumpingan sin kāhapun
In tangis, katawa, uyum
Mustahil landu’ lupahun

V
Bang sin Tuhan Rahman duwlan
Ikaw masi in uwian
Ha duwaa ta kaw daran
Mabiya’ süga ha silakan

In My Blood My Love Constantly Flows

I
Distant I may be from you
Eternal is my love and mercy for you
Kept in my heart staunchly
Through my blood, it flows constantly

II
You are my beloved native land
Homeland of my birth
Raised in you I have grown
O Fatherland, of my ancestors!

III
Even Sun may have set
The seas may calm or may rage
Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Still, I always long for you

IV
In the native soil, you have sown
Yesterday’s floral blooms
Your tears, your laughter, smiles
Indeed, to forget is so impossible

V
If The Lord Merciful shall allow
It shall always be you, I’ll return home to
Eternally, you are in my supplication
Shining brightest like the Rising Sun

Jahara A. Solaiman

Ramadhan Greeting

This, from me to you,
To family and neighbors too.
Here’s to a bounteous Ramadhan for you and me,
Boundless blessings be to the community!

Our dear ones at the iftar table may we always gather,
And remember those who cannot make it, and the ones gone forever.

May faith nourish our spiritual hunger,
Remembrance of the Almighty will feed us, one way or the other.
A prayer to aid the troubled and tormented,
A plea for wisdom for the misguided.

May all be healed with kindness and generosity,
A better world for you and me.
Glad tidings of Ramadhan I bring to thee,
May we thrive in its essence infinitely!

“Ipita Ko so Ranon, Igabi so Tadman”
(Love for Breakfast, Reminiscences for Dinner)

Love is best eaten at breakfast.
Straight from the pan, newly fried, comes joy.
Steam dissipates into the morning mist the heady fragrance of a mug of warmth.
A generous slice (or two) of savory emotions completes the spread.
The daybreak plate is always full and satiating.
Alas! At dusk it is never.
Nourishment left aside spoils sometime after.
Memories are all that’s left for dinner.

The Rice Farmer

Barefoot,
His cracked heels dig deep
Into the thick sludge.
Set to do what his forbears had done for ages:
Living the travails of earthly toil.
Summoning them to bring forth
The golden grains that feed an ungrateful multitude.

The sticky mire oozes between his toes,
As he bends, gently laying the fresh green shoots into the mushy slush.
All this, while thoughts swirl through his head.
Of whether the weather will remain kind,
Of why the ravenous snails seem to just appear from nowhere,
Of why his life, like his muddy feet,
Seemed to sink deeper into the grime.
And whether the market will do him justice this time.

At dusk, upright he stands,
His back broken by labor and scorched by the sun.
His hands and feet spent,
He looks at his fields verdant with plantlet tips,
A worried prayer escapes his lips,
No recourse but to leave it all to the One.