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Excerpts in English


In my reminiscences of yore, Angono was a little town,
With only three main roads along which came a river down,
Its waters flowing, rippling from the Sierra Madre foothills,
Clear and clean for bathing and washing, safe for cooking our meals.
Most of the houses then had nipa-thatched, pyramid-like roofing,
On straight yakal or crooked posts, some bamboo, firmly standing,

On others ipil-ipil, almost all had flooring of split bamboo,
The townsfolk lived simply and to one another were kind and true.
Various native fruits could be had, fresh vegetables aplenty,

Palay was growing in the fields, fish were thriving in the sea,
My town then was a picturesque haven of beauty and abundance,
That even with my silver strands, will still be in my remembrance.

(REMINISCENCES) (English version)
Memories of the past serenely come to mind,
Creative imaginings turned into poetic lines
Of past experiences that rise continuously
One after another they come back vividly;
To be always remembered and mentally kept,
The ways of life then in my beloved hometown,
Never to be forgoten, once they're written down


Planting rice is no fun, bent from morn till set of sun,
Feet and legs soaked in muddy waters one can’t shun;
Guitar accompaniment of lilting music,
Fingers plucking the seedlings have to be quick.

Thrusting them precisely into the soft ricebed,
At the same time, in straight lines, not late or ahead,
In the vastness of the ricefields in rain or sun,
It’s their means of livelihood, though it’s never fun.


Gently the fingers play on the piano keyboard,
Of the inspired Composer creating what he should,
In his compositions, other works that abound,
With corresponding notes he catches each sound;
Far into the stillness of night a song is born,
A sweet “Kundiman” is heard at the break of dawn


His face glowed truly with serene happiness
At sight of the sculpture’s emerging loveliness,
Truly she’d be a goddess of beauty, from her lips
To the slender waist, to the tapered finger tips.

She’d be the Pilipina, maiden of this race,
Come to life by this sculptor’s skill and expertise,
With inspiration from his model unmoving,
Standing still in the gaze of his eyes scrutinizing.


Well-defined in the great mural that was larger-than-life,
Was the battle in Mactan, in Limasawa – a strife
That goes down in the history of this land of our birth,
Of which the traits of daring and courage, there was no dearth,
Between Ferdinand Magellan with his Castillian men,
And Lapu-Lapu, the brave, freedom-loving Chieftain,
Whose peaceful life with his subjects suddenly seemed threatened,
But ready with his right, his country’s honor to defend.


Churchgoers filling the church to capacity,
Children craning their necks, waiting expectantly,
With big wide-eyed, wondering orbs filled with love,
At the three huge lanterns hanging high from above.

In innocence, we are awed by each twinkling star,
And how each moves forward very gently from afar,
O’er undistracted, serene grown-ups in prayer,
At the altar with Baby Jesus in the manger.

At the choir’s crescendo – “Peace on earth, goodwill to men!”
All at once the stars glow, the bells ring, we listen;
The last midnight Mass, the “Bisperas ng Pasko”-
Christmas Eve – yearly, grandly done in Angono.



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