Para sa Mga Burak sa Heidelberg
(To the Flowers of Heidelberg)
Ni Jose Rizal
Itinaga Baao ni P.B. Robosa

Pasadto kamo banwaan ko, dayuhan na burak
tagak sa raran kin mga nagbabaklay, iwinarak,
sa lomlom ka sirong kin azul na kalangitan,
sadto na an mga payaba ko pinag-iiningatan
iluyap ninyo, pagarang-arang kanakong rogan,
kining arayo pero di nalilingaw sa mga binayaan

Pasadto kamo, ag mabareta bago magliwanag,
kung kamo ka sirang ka aldow ibinubuklad,
sa pangpang ag agnow ka Neckar na ararom
sadto siya nakatindog, nang-guiguiromrom
pamumula sa tagsibol, darang kolor na magayon.

Ipa-ngusip ninyo kun pag-abot ka saking ramrag,
ayaton kaninyo an hamot na kaninyong ambag,
habang luway na pina-iirongog “o ika, payaba ko”
siya man nagririmo-rimo, sa itaas ninyo tinotono,
kantang pagkaboot, sa sadiring bisara nya guinibo

Kun su silaw ka ramrag aboton na su kaitaasan,
tuktok Koenigsthul kalayuwan kin kaliwanagan,
namumulaag na silaw ka aldow mang-guisong na,
sa patag, kadlagan ag kakahoyan nanbubuway na,
ining lagalag, sabat man tulos an silaw na dara,
na sadto banwaan man nya, minabulos biyaya.

Isabi ninyo ku kamo luway na pinili ag pinutlan,
ku sya nag-agi-agi sa sadit ag matulid na a-agian,
sa rugbang torreng tuda ko panahon na nakaagi,
sa Neckar na may kadlagan, malimpoy na sabi.
Sabiyon su kanyang mga panambitan ag sinabi
pauno kamo luway-luway, tinulid, ingat na inani,
sadto kanyang libro isinuksuk ag pinagkahigo,
sa mga lumang pahina, kamo niyang itinatago.

Hatudan, hatudan, magayon na burak kin Rhine,
an biyong pagka-boot ko sa ngamin na nabootan,
katoninongan sa banwaan kong kinamondagan,
sa kababaihan-katangihan, kusog sa kalalakihan.
Ipagtaratara diaday, sa mga payaba kong marhay
sa ngamin, kabilugang banal, pauulian ka buway.

Pag-abot sa baybayon kan pinayabang banwaan
matam-is na arok na pinamate di paglingawan,
ipatiprak sa pakpak kin angin na nakapalibot
tanganing su ngamin na inonra, ginalang, binoot,
mamate sa mga pisngi ninda--arok kong pina-abot.

Tibaad makaabot kamo sa banwaan kong tinubuan
dara pa gayon ag tinkad ninyong kolor na namasdan,
ta arayo kamo sa ragang kinabuklatan, nang-alisngaw,
namarong na amot, tibaad dagos nang naoda, nanlasaw.
An hamio ninyo, kalag ninyong tunay, di maisusuway,
di malilingangawan ka langit kun sari kamo nabuway.

Our SMA Days
P.B.Robosa


We were young and we were free
we'd walk the gate and into the end
it looked old and bare but it was cheery
crawl through a hole, smelled the floor
cracked the old desk covered with scrawls

We're proud but we knew how to have fun
brave the horrors of the grotto under the moon
plant crops in the morn or haul sand in the sun
we'd jump the high window and bang the bell
stole fried bananas on sticks and cursed like hell

We pretend joy and we pretend sorrow
liked a storm on occasion but during summer
hated math and physics but the ballyhoo
said “Good Morning Miss”to a sour face
eyes strained reading but quick for a little lace

We were all yours as we were all there
said goodbye in the end but never lost touch
We return and sing “Hail, Dear Alma Mater”
Passed the make shift gate and the gray halls
We've had laughter, light and loved in these walls

The Charge of the Horsemen at the Battle of Agdangan

Ahead! Down the hill the horses led
to rise again on another hillock
lit by the morning light the sun bled
and revealed to the enemy our attack

Ahead! The blue shirts advanced
and came the sound of rifles readied
disturbing the silence of the ground
drowning the charge of our steeds.

Charge! And we headed to the center
and fifty muzzles pointed to the riders
And the horsemen rode as if unaware
the guns loaded, fingers at the triggers

Crack! And a screen of smoke erupts
and our chests heaved with scarlet
we steadied, legs steeled to the stirrup
and then rolled down, giving in, death.

Like leaves we fall on desolate ground
plucked from flowers to be transplanted
no glory, no monuments to be found
amidst faith and longings unrewarded.

I was born into the love of a happy home
and heart gladdened by the wakening land
rearing to be free to trace its destiny alone
To draw paradise on earth with my hand

To ends that God, History point the way
the way of peace, and pride, and purpose
ends songs are wrought and heroes made
ends where lives are gave and joys repose

I, to boundless hope these ends followed
bearing honor, life, and my soul unafraid
bearing it for all the countless tomorrows
for my end, my home and sweet tender grave

The Cold of January

The Cold of January

Imagine being so warm again
Hot chocolate simmering on the stove
sounds so inviting to the steaming polutan
I'll eat my crisp tuyo slowly to last till tomorrow.

I promised myself some hot coffee later
and hurry inside till the fog turns to snow.

Now I forgot I'm too old to be this happy
My body smarts from the heavy blankets
and your grin after so much mischief
as I tease your frozen fingers clumsily

I enfold you and lead you to a little dance
to work up a sweat on that sweet warm skin

Let's do this every year in the cold
until that time when the cold front fades
or the weather breaks to rain and puts puddles
to the floor.

leaving us this intentions and recollections
of the warmth of this world