Archive for November, 2009

Lyrics Translation: Jennifer Paige, “Crush”

Lyrics Translation: Jennifer Paige, “Crush”

I hate my last song syndromes.  Just because I feel like it:

Paghanga Lang

Jennifer Paige, “Crush”

Ahhh… kras… ahhh…

Sa hangin ka pa humalik
Di kailangang magsaliksik
Para maintindihan ang nangyayari sa atin

Kung sakin may nakikita
Huwag mo nang pag-isipan pa
Huwag ka nang magpalalim, giliw

Kung ganyan, hayaan lang
Kunwari pang baliw na baliw sa akin
Eto ang aking gagawin
Tadhana na tayong pagtatagpuin

Ito’y paghanga lang
May malay pa rin, kahit tayo’y maghaplusan
Konting bagay lang yan
Di lahat ng gagawin ko ay para sa iyo

Sha-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la

Ako ay kakaba-kaba
Katok mo’y sa pusong lata
Wag mo nang gawing balita pa giliw
Sabi mo, “Kahit kailan”
Di ko naman hinanap iyan
Kaya ko lang siguro ay “pwede”

Kung ganyan, hayaan lang
Kunwari pang baliw na baliw sa akin
Eto ang aking gagawin
Tadhana na tayong pagtatagpuin

Ito’y paghanga lang
May malay pa rin, kahit tayo’y maghaplusan
Konting bagay lang yan
Di lahat ng gagawin ko ay para sa iyo
Sha-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la

Banilyang kalawakan
Sa iyong mata’y puting bakuran
Tayong dalawa pa rin

Ito’y paghanga lang
May malay pa rin, kahit tayo’y maghaplusan
Konting bagay lang yan
Di lahat ng gagawin ko ay para sa iyo

Sha-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la
May malay pa rin, kahit tayo’y maghaplusan
Konting bagay lang yan
Di lahat ng gagawin ko ay para sa iyo

Sha-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la
May malay pa rin, kahit tayo’y maghaplusan
Konting bagay lang yan
Di lahat ng gagawin ko ay para sa iyo

November 3, 2009 0 comments Read More
Azucarera

Azucarera

With a deft stroke of the machete, the kid cut the sugarcane and split it lengthwise.  With a few more strokes, the segment was split into fibers which he handed to us.  Pantawid-gutom, tanggal pagod na rin. We were on our way to some of the shanties that stood between the farmers of Hacienda Luisita and the soldiers from nearby Camp Aquino.  For the lot of us, it was two things: basic masses integration, and gathering facts for a news story.

I’ve only had fresh sugarcane once before, and my gums bled from a day of not brushing and smoking cheap Champion cigarettes.  My unwashed hair whipped into my mouth, smelling of the Sun and the sweat that built up from the trek.  It was a rather telling – chilling – metaphor that I can still remember years after we helped cover the story of the Hacienda Luisita Massacre: the sweetness of the sugar was only made possible by the blood of workers and farmers.

November 3, 2009 3 comments Read More
Vincent’s Brother

Vincent’s Brother

He watched him as he stared into the canvas.  The hand, numbed by absinthe, dipped the brush into those blotches of sharp yellow on the palette.  He didn’t know what was going on in his mind, but he saw how much his brother suffered from his art.  Theo believed in his brother’s vision, even if Vincent was perennially broke and always on edge.  He kept going to the bank to fill his account.  From that deposit, Vincent bought his alcohol (which gave him vision) and his painting materials (which gave him his living).

It wasn’t Vincent who drew the sunflowers or the starry, starry night.  Rather, it was his hand and his eyes.  No one would bother understanding Vincent except Theo.  Some people saw Vincent as a visionary artist forsaken by his own creativity.  Still others saw him as a nuisance to society who had one too many glasses of liquor, or took too long of a sniff of the paint and the varnish.

November 2, 2009 1 comment Read More
First of November

First of November

“November 1: I think I need to take it easier on myself.”

My tickler is full of reminders I give myself on red-letter holidays; reminders I don’t usually follow because I either forget, or I don’t follow my own advice.  On my birthday, I reminded myself to quit smoking.  Valentine’s Day, I reminded myself to take it easy on the drink.  A friend had to lay it on me on this red-letter day: I take too much joy in self-mortification.  It seems that I’m at my best when I’m depressed.  Although it’s what she said afterward that really hit hard: what would I become at my worst?

It’s the first of November, and everywhere I see changes, mostly from my friends who are more than willing and able to change their lives for the better.  A friend underwent surgery to lose weight.  An acquaintance voluntarily entered a rehab program.  Still another friend gave up her career to pursue her dreams of becoming a doctor.  Oh sure, I’ve gone through many changes, but I still can’t stand to look at that face in the mirror.

November 1, 2009 8 comments Read More
Lyrics Freakin’ Translations

Lyrics Freakin’ Translations

I haven’t done this in a while, so I’m probably very rusty.

For this long overdue attempt in lyrics translations, I’m looking over some songs in my iTunes music library that could probably be translated.  Not that translated songs are more awesome than the original, but you never know what the outcome will be until you finally translate it, and “proofread” it by actually singing it.  However, that is something that I will never do again, except in closed-door videoke sessions.

Let’s get on with it, or get it over with, whatever.  Since I’m rusty, I can only manage three today.

November 1, 2009 3 comments Read More
Stop Motion

Stop Motion

DSC00625

There’s just that one moment that Makati doesn’t seem so congested, where you won’t run across random strangers or tired office workers.  The underpasses offer that very short moment of silence and solitude… until someone from Ayala Avenue or Makati Avenue makes his or her way down the overpass and disturbs your peace.

Maybe an office worker without a long weekend.  Maybe a tourist exploring the maze that is the Makati pedestrian system.  Or maybe someone from maintenance, assigned to clean the floor.  There is no escaping people here; except in those moments where there’s nobody around.  Just you and your own shadow, you and your own breath, choosing a path to go to.

Then again, someone entered the underpass, and I hightailed it out of there.  To wherever.  To find solitude in a place where there is no silence.

November 1, 2009 0 comments Read More