J.A. Del Prado

Dagger by Cirilo Baustista translated by J.A. Del Prado Day by day my wife and I try the sharpness of our dagger. For instance when my youngest child is crying and my beloved does not move I stab her back and merrily watch her nurse the child while she bleeds. If the light bulb is burned out in our kitchen and I am busy writing a poem, she never stops stabbing me on the nape as long as the light is not replaced. Our fight is fair a fault is a fault, no cheating. That’s why by the day’s end we count the wounds and the seemingly ragged souls will laugh and punch each other. We are always like this since our love for each other is more than enough. In the original language (Filipino): Patalim ni Cirilo Bautista Araw-araw sinusubok naming mag-asawa ang talim ng aming balaraw Halimbawa kung umi

The Woman who Daydreamed (Ang Babaeng Nangarap Nang Gising) by Rio Alma (Virgilio Almario) translated by J.A. Del Prado She was embracing a broken ladle When she woke up from a dream, As the dried fish and rice she was frying, whizzed and hissed. From the corner of her eyes, still sparkling Were the planets and stars, Though her beloved prince, Jasmines, and palanquins had vanished. When she was young, she vowed That she would rise From the stench and the damp field Of her secluded village. Owned by the City’s temptation And by her noble purpose, She carried her dreams in a trunk And never looked back. Like the tale of the lost chick, Tired and withered, She lived her life in An old apartment. Someone told her that today Her stray spouse would come home soon. So she prepared and cleaned early. Later, she dressed herself. When the door opened, she closed her eyes In the hymn of a violin And drenched herself in jasmine and t

I Am a Woman Living Alone by Joi Barrios translated by J.A. Del Prado I am a woman living alone , divorced, old maid, mistress, whore . They define my solitude as a stain, a welt endowed by history, a scar to bear for eternity. There is a trial that I cannot pass, a scale that measure my insufficiency , a scrutiny that assesses The effigy of my upbringing. They will always scrutinize my solitude. What they do not see is it’s my decision. My society tries to confine and enslave me by taking away this miniscule liberty. My solitude is not to forsake love, or lust or liability. This is not to recoil from following my oath or fulfilling my dreams. This is not to look at life bare of hope. It is only my desire that my hands will run my own time; my heart and mind will write my history, I, myself, will shape my being. Let me live in peace, by not appending to my name the labels of scorn: whore, mistress, old Maid, divorced, though I