I was introduced to this poem a little more than a decade ago. A friend gave me the Filipino translation by another Filipino poet/ writer Pete Lacaba, and i thought it was one of the saddest, most beautiful poems I've read. I'm still torn which is the better translation, this, or Pete Lacaba's.
This morning, I woke up with this poem in my head, reciting itself over and over.No, not a song, but a poem. I'm such a geek. But then again...
Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines
Pablo Neruda
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Indeed...
This Filipino poet just took the words out of my mouth.
A Prayer, or Great Expectations
Fanny Haydee B. Llego
There's no doubt about it I need to get hitched:
I need someone to scratch me whenever I itch
Or give me a backrub whenever I want it
(Who'll pout only a little when someone else does it);
Someone on whom I can vent my frustrations
& who is supportive in trying situations;
Who'll extol all my virtues, forget all my faults
& would always submit to my sexual assaults;
Who'll bring up my children the way they should be
Yet still be entirely devoted to me;
Who'll always obey me, my word being law,
My logic, perfect; my thinking, without flaw;
My sexy cheerleader, housekeeper, accountant,
Secretary, nursemaid, unflagging assistant;
Brought up & moulded to think that success
Is found in the home: nothing more, nowhere else.
O, Mother Goddess, I need in my life
A man willing to be the perfect little wife!
A Prayer, or Great Expectations
Fanny Haydee B. Llego
There's no doubt about it I need to get hitched:
I need someone to scratch me whenever I itch
Or give me a backrub whenever I want it
(Who'll pout only a little when someone else does it);
Someone on whom I can vent my frustrations
& who is supportive in trying situations;
Who'll extol all my virtues, forget all my faults
& would always submit to my sexual assaults;
Who'll bring up my children the way they should be
Yet still be entirely devoted to me;
Who'll always obey me, my word being law,
My logic, perfect; my thinking, without flaw;
My sexy cheerleader, housekeeper, accountant,
Secretary, nursemaid, unflagging assistant;
Brought up & moulded to think that success
Is found in the home: nothing more, nowhere else.
O, Mother Goddess, I need in my life
A man willing to be the perfect little wife!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Loveology
(with thanks to Regina Spektor for the title)
They say every person that comes into your life brings you a lesson to learn. Ever since this thing with Hugh started, a question had always lingered—What lesson do I need to learn from him? What is he meant to teach me?
I knew from the beginning there would be regrets when this thing ends. And I’m not being negative when I anticipate things ending or having regrets. It’s just a fact that I was faced with at the onset. There were no illusions that this was going to last. We both knew it was a temporary arrangement. But there was the hope that it would be otherwise, and being temporary didn’t make it any less painful.
As I found myself in that dark place once again, I tried to rationalize things, if only to offer myself some kind of consolation. If I could put everything within the confines of logic, then maybe I can finally make sense of things and make it hurt less. No such luck in that department, though.
But thinking and re-thinking, picking at the details make you realize certain things. And for the past few weeks, I think I’ve finally gotten to a semblance of understanding why he had to come into my life, at this time and in this way.
He taught me about desire. And how powerful desire could be. It was exciting and intoxicating. I was drunk with him and him with me. But no real love can exist with desire alone, and that I had to learn.
Ironically, too, he taught me about commitment. I half jokingly told S., “He’s committed to being non-commital.” That cracked her up. It just made me more sad. Sad to realize that I wanted it with him, that suddenly it didn’t seem too scary a prospect.
He opened me up in ways that no one did. I dared and took risks. “I’ve never seen you give yourself like this to anyone,” my sister said. “It’s good,” she says, “you’re finally learning to open up.”
He taught me about patience. God, I’ve given him chances more than I’ve given to anyone, despite my better judgment. But even with all the chances, there was no redemption, only disappointment. I could simply chalk everything up to three things: he just wasn’t ready, or he’s unwilling, or worse, he’s just plain incapable. Whatever the reason is, it hardly matters anymore.
“Maybe you had to go through this and him because he is the preparation for something better,” says my sister. Her words of wisdom offers little comfort right now. But it is another lesson this whole experience with him is teaching me—it is a lesson of faith. Faith that the future holds something much better, the big pay-off for all the struggles I had to contend with. Maybe next time, it will be my turn to win.
But lastly and more importantly, he’s trying to teach me about forgiveness. Although, it is one, I have yet to fully learn. Forgiveness for him, and all the shit he’s pulled. Forgiveness for myself and for whatever this whole thing had been. Wasn’t it Oprah who said, “forgiveness is the letting go of the hope that things could have been better,”?
They say every person that comes into your life brings you a lesson to learn. Ever since this thing with Hugh started, a question had always lingered—What lesson do I need to learn from him? What is he meant to teach me?
I knew from the beginning there would be regrets when this thing ends. And I’m not being negative when I anticipate things ending or having regrets. It’s just a fact that I was faced with at the onset. There were no illusions that this was going to last. We both knew it was a temporary arrangement. But there was the hope that it would be otherwise, and being temporary didn’t make it any less painful.
As I found myself in that dark place once again, I tried to rationalize things, if only to offer myself some kind of consolation. If I could put everything within the confines of logic, then maybe I can finally make sense of things and make it hurt less. No such luck in that department, though.
But thinking and re-thinking, picking at the details make you realize certain things. And for the past few weeks, I think I’ve finally gotten to a semblance of understanding why he had to come into my life, at this time and in this way.
He taught me about desire. And how powerful desire could be. It was exciting and intoxicating. I was drunk with him and him with me. But no real love can exist with desire alone, and that I had to learn.
Ironically, too, he taught me about commitment. I half jokingly told S., “He’s committed to being non-commital.” That cracked her up. It just made me more sad. Sad to realize that I wanted it with him, that suddenly it didn’t seem too scary a prospect.
He opened me up in ways that no one did. I dared and took risks. “I’ve never seen you give yourself like this to anyone,” my sister said. “It’s good,” she says, “you’re finally learning to open up.”
He taught me about patience. God, I’ve given him chances more than I’ve given to anyone, despite my better judgment. But even with all the chances, there was no redemption, only disappointment. I could simply chalk everything up to three things: he just wasn’t ready, or he’s unwilling, or worse, he’s just plain incapable. Whatever the reason is, it hardly matters anymore.
“Maybe you had to go through this and him because he is the preparation for something better,” says my sister. Her words of wisdom offers little comfort right now. But it is another lesson this whole experience with him is teaching me—it is a lesson of faith. Faith that the future holds something much better, the big pay-off for all the struggles I had to contend with. Maybe next time, it will be my turn to win.
But lastly and more importantly, he’s trying to teach me about forgiveness. Although, it is one, I have yet to fully learn. Forgiveness for him, and all the shit he’s pulled. Forgiveness for myself and for whatever this whole thing had been. Wasn’t it Oprah who said, “forgiveness is the letting go of the hope that things could have been better,”?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Say When
Pain is the payment for every thing that’s precious, said one character from CSI NY. But pain, they say, is also the mechanism that tells you if something isn’t right, physical or otherwise. What do I make of it? What if pain is just pain, neither the price you pay or the friend you would like to think of? And it’s just there to spite you?
I am tired.
I am tired.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Jukebox!
After months of frustration, I’ve finally done it!!! I have successfully added an mp3 player to this blog! To some, this may be not much of an achievement, but for a technologically challenged person as I am, it is a feat, by no means small.
This current playlist, by the way, is as you’ve guessed the soundtrack of my life right now. But more than that, it is also one that I’ve promised to make for Karla. Hope she likes it, and so do the rest of you.
This current playlist, by the way, is as you’ve guessed the soundtrack of my life right now. But more than that, it is also one that I’ve promised to make for Karla. Hope she likes it, and so do the rest of you.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Need to get to the Last Stage
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost. I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find my way out.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in…it’s a habit.
My eyes are open. I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
I walk down another street.
- Taken from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost. I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find my way out.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in…it’s a habit.
My eyes are open. I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
I walk down another street.
- Taken from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Philosophizing over TV
“In places parallel, I know it’s you. Feel the little pieces bleeding through…”
- Nine Inch Nails, Beside You in Time
I’ve been following Flashforward quite religiously. For those who have been living under a rock, the show started with everyone blacking out for exactly 2.17 minutes. In that brief period, everyone in the world who blacked out saw a glimpse of his or her future, six months to the date.
Sonya Walger is Olivia Benford, the wife of Special Agent Mark Benford. Her flashforward saw the dissolution of her marriage and that she was having an affair with another man, Lloyd Simcoe, played by the wonderful Jack Davenport. In the episodes that follow, it shows her trying to fight that future to save her marriage from ruin.
In this week’s episode, Sonya arranges for the transfer of Lloyd’s son to a private and secure facility following Lloyd’s public admission that the blackout had been caused by his group’s scientific experiment gone awry. They talk briefly, and find out that they had almost gone to the same university, and that Olivia had almost lived in the same apartment building where Lloyd had met his wife.
“Are you aware of the many worlds theory?” Lloyd asks Olivia. She says she is not, and Lloyd explains the concept of parallel worlds. He explains that all the choices and decisions that we could have made are being played out in these parallel worlds as if we have made them at all, and it will be forever played out simultaneously with this reality that we know and live in.
Lloyd pointed out, if only Olivia had gone to Harvard instead of marrying Mark, she would have probably lived in that apartment building, they would have met and chances are, would have actually lived their happy ever after together. But seeing that they haven’t done all that, they both have to live with the consequences of their decisions.
It amuses me a great deal to watch the scene unfold, to hear a character talk about it and seemingly echo my thoughts. Of course, my thoughts were in no way connected to what Olivia and Lloyd were going through with their lives, but more with what was going on in mine.
I had often wondered if he and I met another place, another time, would things be different. I remember us talking once and I had in passing mentioned vacationing in the city where he used to live and work. Maybe he was thinking of the same thing, what if we had bumped into each other, me as a tourist, he as, well, him.
The places I’ve gone were the places he had lived in at one point. But our paths never seemed to cross until it was time for us to do so, only fate chose for us to meet a little too late when everything was different and almost impossible.
I always wanted to ask him, had we not met the way we have, and he had just seen me walking down the street in the city where he is now, would he even try to approach me, and win me?
But sometimes I get to thinking, does it really matter that we didn’t meet during those times? Because we did meet, and isn’t that the point? It seems that we can change the details, the steps that lead to the end as much as we want, but the outcome remains the same.
How much of our lives then is shaped by our choices and decisions? How much of it is shaped by fate?
But if he and I were bound to meet, the only question that remains to be answered is, to what end? To what purpose?
- Nine Inch Nails, Beside You in Time
I’ve been following Flashforward quite religiously. For those who have been living under a rock, the show started with everyone blacking out for exactly 2.17 minutes. In that brief period, everyone in the world who blacked out saw a glimpse of his or her future, six months to the date.
Sonya Walger is Olivia Benford, the wife of Special Agent Mark Benford. Her flashforward saw the dissolution of her marriage and that she was having an affair with another man, Lloyd Simcoe, played by the wonderful Jack Davenport. In the episodes that follow, it shows her trying to fight that future to save her marriage from ruin.
In this week’s episode, Sonya arranges for the transfer of Lloyd’s son to a private and secure facility following Lloyd’s public admission that the blackout had been caused by his group’s scientific experiment gone awry. They talk briefly, and find out that they had almost gone to the same university, and that Olivia had almost lived in the same apartment building where Lloyd had met his wife.
“Are you aware of the many worlds theory?” Lloyd asks Olivia. She says she is not, and Lloyd explains the concept of parallel worlds. He explains that all the choices and decisions that we could have made are being played out in these parallel worlds as if we have made them at all, and it will be forever played out simultaneously with this reality that we know and live in.
Lloyd pointed out, if only Olivia had gone to Harvard instead of marrying Mark, she would have probably lived in that apartment building, they would have met and chances are, would have actually lived their happy ever after together. But seeing that they haven’t done all that, they both have to live with the consequences of their decisions.
It amuses me a great deal to watch the scene unfold, to hear a character talk about it and seemingly echo my thoughts. Of course, my thoughts were in no way connected to what Olivia and Lloyd were going through with their lives, but more with what was going on in mine.
I had often wondered if he and I met another place, another time, would things be different. I remember us talking once and I had in passing mentioned vacationing in the city where he used to live and work. Maybe he was thinking of the same thing, what if we had bumped into each other, me as a tourist, he as, well, him.
The places I’ve gone were the places he had lived in at one point. But our paths never seemed to cross until it was time for us to do so, only fate chose for us to meet a little too late when everything was different and almost impossible.
I always wanted to ask him, had we not met the way we have, and he had just seen me walking down the street in the city where he is now, would he even try to approach me, and win me?
But sometimes I get to thinking, does it really matter that we didn’t meet during those times? Because we did meet, and isn’t that the point? It seems that we can change the details, the steps that lead to the end as much as we want, but the outcome remains the same.
How much of our lives then is shaped by our choices and decisions? How much of it is shaped by fate?
But if he and I were bound to meet, the only question that remains to be answered is, to what end? To what purpose?
Saturday, June 5, 2010
It's A Matter of Choice...
I never quite understood how people can choose to be in a) a gray area and b) a miserable relationship, until it happened to me. Then the universe, as if to rub it in my face gave me this really beautiful song by Florence and the Machine.
I'm posting it here for Karla and all my other friends who share the same sentiments..dammit, can i actually get more cheesy than this?!
Cosmic Love
A fallen star,
Fell from your heart,
And landed in my eyes,
I screamed aloud,
As it tore through them,
And now it's left me blind,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark,
No dawn, no day,
I'm always in this twilight,
In the shadow of your heart,
And in the dark,
I can hear your heartbeat, I try to find the sound,
But then it stopped,
And I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark,
No dawn, No day,
I'm always in this twlight,
In the shadow of your heart,
I took the stars from my eyes,
And then I made a map,
I knew that some how,
I could find my way back,
Then I heard your heart beating, you were darkness too,
So I stayed in the darkness with you,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark,
No dawn, no day,
I'm always in the twilight,
In the shadow of your heart,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark, (you left me in the dark)
No dawn, no day,
I'm always in this twilight,
In the shadow of your heart.
I'm posting it here for Karla and all my other friends who share the same sentiments..dammit, can i actually get more cheesy than this?!
Cosmic Love
A fallen star,
Fell from your heart,
And landed in my eyes,
I screamed aloud,
As it tore through them,
And now it's left me blind,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark,
No dawn, no day,
I'm always in this twilight,
In the shadow of your heart,
And in the dark,
I can hear your heartbeat, I try to find the sound,
But then it stopped,
And I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark,
No dawn, No day,
I'm always in this twlight,
In the shadow of your heart,
I took the stars from my eyes,
And then I made a map,
I knew that some how,
I could find my way back,
Then I heard your heart beating, you were darkness too,
So I stayed in the darkness with you,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark,
No dawn, no day,
I'm always in the twilight,
In the shadow of your heart,
The stars, the moon,
They have all been blown out,
You left me in the dark, (you left me in the dark)
No dawn, no day,
I'm always in this twilight,
In the shadow of your heart.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Questions and Quandaries
It seems that being in a gray area is a place that people at one point or another would find themselves in, whether they like it or not. And just as it is so easy to fall into that hole, getting out of it could be just as hard. If you’re lucky, you can pull yourself out in no time, but others can stay an eternity there without even knowing what they were in to begin with.
Relationships, particularly quasi-romances, are the most common of the gray areas that you can get yourself into. In my circle alone, at least three of my friends are in that place of knowing and not quite knowing the status of their relationships. And who knows, maybe there are more who just haven’t the courage to admit they’re clueless as well.
My good friend, Karla, (probably the only person in this blog who will ever be named) has even written quite a number of posts on her blog labeled appropriately as gray area. O., another friend who lives about a thousand miles from me, sends me text messages of her frustration over a current quasi-romance. S, on the other hand, has got herself a number of relationships of that nature. It’s a wonder how she can actually keep up with them and with herself. And then there’s me…well, we all know how my little romantic adventure (or mishap) ended. On second thought, things are not exactly, um, through between me and Hugh (not his real name).
The situation that my friends, and often what I also find myself in begs me to ask: Can dysfunction in relationships prove to be so attractive that we are almost compelled to prostrate ourselves to it despite the obvious pain it will cause? And why is it that despite that recognition, we accept it as a matter of fact rather than a matter we have control over, and therefore can actually change? Are we that desperate for love that we completely forget the harm we’re doing to ourselves?
Another point that I also wanted to make here is the apparent curse or gift that has befallen my friends. They share parallel lives with me. I know, I know that not everything is about me, and that it is completely narcissistic of me to think that. But hey, even my friends acknowledge the fact. O. and C. has actually told me flat out that they don’t want to be friends with me anymore for exactly this reason. Of course, they were joking. Or were they?
Maybe my friends and I are that bonded together that we’ve begun to actually share the same fate, which when you think about it makes it really romantic in a sense. But then again, it also makes for a really sad thing.
Whatever the case may be, whether it’s coincidence or providence that makes us lead parallel lives, the bottom line is we need to get out of the gray and start finding the light. I think we mighty deserve it.
Relationships, particularly quasi-romances, are the most common of the gray areas that you can get yourself into. In my circle alone, at least three of my friends are in that place of knowing and not quite knowing the status of their relationships. And who knows, maybe there are more who just haven’t the courage to admit they’re clueless as well.
My good friend, Karla, (probably the only person in this blog who will ever be named) has even written quite a number of posts on her blog labeled appropriately as gray area. O., another friend who lives about a thousand miles from me, sends me text messages of her frustration over a current quasi-romance. S, on the other hand, has got herself a number of relationships of that nature. It’s a wonder how she can actually keep up with them and with herself. And then there’s me…well, we all know how my little romantic adventure (or mishap) ended. On second thought, things are not exactly, um, through between me and Hugh (not his real name).
The situation that my friends, and often what I also find myself in begs me to ask: Can dysfunction in relationships prove to be so attractive that we are almost compelled to prostrate ourselves to it despite the obvious pain it will cause? And why is it that despite that recognition, we accept it as a matter of fact rather than a matter we have control over, and therefore can actually change? Are we that desperate for love that we completely forget the harm we’re doing to ourselves?
Another point that I also wanted to make here is the apparent curse or gift that has befallen my friends. They share parallel lives with me. I know, I know that not everything is about me, and that it is completely narcissistic of me to think that. But hey, even my friends acknowledge the fact. O. and C. has actually told me flat out that they don’t want to be friends with me anymore for exactly this reason. Of course, they were joking. Or were they?
Maybe my friends and I are that bonded together that we’ve begun to actually share the same fate, which when you think about it makes it really romantic in a sense. But then again, it also makes for a really sad thing.
Whatever the case may be, whether it’s coincidence or providence that makes us lead parallel lives, the bottom line is we need to get out of the gray and start finding the light. I think we mighty deserve it.
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