It started with the mention of Tony Serrano’s name and his work Quantum Fluctuations, which I bought at National Bookstore out of whim. I didn’t know who he was but obviously of great standing in Filipino literature. Gelo Suarez suggested Cesar Ruiz Aquino [and his work In Samarkand] since I enjoyed Serrano’s work. So, I left Gelo alone because he was at the office. His Meebo was going beserk and I took notice because it kept popping on and off of my screen. It started a short convo about books. We parted, ironically, by saying our respective hellos. Isn’t that a good way to say goodbye, by ending it with a beginning? It has no sense of finality.
Okay. Off I googled. Leche! Time flew and an hour passed by. It was like a wild google-goose chase. I managed to find at least one. Oh but that poem I found was mind-orgasmic and intellectually complex layered with metaphors, euphony and such.
- Word Without End
East, the horizons and all the learning
Lost. Sick for Siquijor or Avalon
O I could for the sheer sight of her throw
Verses away! Let the Virgins carry
Virgule widdershins upon the fairy
Earth, the same that on the world’s first morning
Left her traces, her face an eidolon
Of whiteness for the chilled blood to know
Or for one word and one word only go
Void as days all misspent for the starry
Echo of a night come without warning
Like a thousand thieves stealing on and on
Love, tongue-tied, is my Tetragrammaton
Opening no door, giving leave to no
Vendaval that, priceless, she might tarry
Even as the sands and there’s no turning
First stanza opens with a sense of location and time. East is the direction where the sun rises. This is where it begins and at the beginning the persona states dislocation by being “lost”. His sense of self and intellectual acuity is of disused to him. He longs for the exotic (Siquijor — place in the Visayas) and the mystical (Avalon — place in Arthurian legend where King Arthur was laid to rest). Here enters his raison d’être and at the sheer sight of her makes him poetic [throw verses away]. His idolation for her continues in the second stanza. But the love interest pays no attention [ hence, widdershins -- means in a direction that is contrary to the sun's course and it is also means unlucky]. He is at the east and the maiden is going in the opposite direction. Her face of eidolon left him terrified, unable to muster anything [chilled blood]. Fear grips at the sight of the love interest — in fear of rejection. Aquino could also be alluding to the mythological tale of Daphne and Apollo. Poets often allude to Apollo, since he is the patron of music and poetry.
The story of Daphne and Apollo is a sad one. As a revenge for what Apollo had said, Eros/Cupid shot him with a golden arrow that at the sight of Daphne inflamed his heart. A leaden arrow shot at Daphne, which caused her to spurn his love. He chases her. She runs away and ask her father the river God for help (to change her image). She turned into a tree, a laurel tree. Since she couldn’t be his wife, she will be his tree. As an homage to Daphne, he wears her — the laurel wreath as his crown.
The persona was doomed to begin with as Apollo’s fate was with Daphne, ineffectual in his pursuit. Days go by and many sleepless nights passes and nothing happens. He is tongue-tied. [Opening no door, giving leave to Vendaval] indicates of being rejected. Vendaval, the wind, signifies movement and for her leave. He hopes that she stays longer [she might tarry]. But time is against him. Sands connote that phrase “the sands of time”. It makes me think of the soap Days of Our Lives and its intro:
Like sands through the hourglass, so our the days of our lives…hehehe
Word Without End is poignant but quite romantic. An elegant, well-written poem of unrequited love and its pains. Love is a word without end, as Aquino points out. If you notice, there are no periods in the verses. You can go into a loop and go back at the beginning. It invokes the old adage that “love makes the world go round.” The first letters of each line, of each verse spells love. There are four verses. Each verse containing 40 syllables, which is divisible by four. So the whole four thing is an occurring theme. It’s not self-limiting to mathematical aspects but invokes a certain associations with anything (relating) to fours. For example, 4 elements (earth, wind, air, fire) and or 4 seasons (spring, summer, fall, winter). It touches spiritual aspect, going back to his usage of Tetragrammaton. It is a Hebrew word for God represented by four consonants [YWHW or JHVH], which in turn can be deciphered by any four letter word. Love is a four letter word, an embodiment of God. God is love. Love is his God. Love is dynamic that fuses the physical, spiritual as well as metaphysical aspects, which makes us feel at one not only within ourselves, within other people, within our environment, within nature but most of all one within a higher being.
My purpose is not to critique Aquino’s poem because I am in no position. I critically dissected it, to better digest the meaning. I’m just at awe and full of admiration of his intellectual acuity and this piece of work aligned in Filipino literature is BRILLIANT. A sense of nationalistic pride. Bravo!
Random chats w/ Gelo have been quite interesting; however, short they are. Chats are so informal (especially in the medium of instant messaging). But hopefully, on my trip back, I get the chance to meet him face to face. I am fascinated by the kid. A fascination that is rooted from admiration. It’s not a crush. It seems there’s a lot of those young college girls do and I encountered a couple, while in search for that pdf file. But I do love his mind. I was sold after Quatrains for Kit. If somebody expressed their love for me the way he did [in that poem]. Fuck! It wasn’t a declaration of anything. It was the way he described her. He depicted an emotional landscape or shall I say nightscape. He does have a gift for words. One of these days I will post some of his poems here.
We’re back to briefly discussing Cesar Ruiz Aquino. I like him. Perhaps I like him a little more than funny old man Serrano. As Gelo puts it,
“He’s very sentimental. But his cheesiness is funnily skewed in archaic turns of phrase, not at all annoying.”
Yes, it’s the kind of sentimentality that won’t make you gag. All these talk of sentimentality and the vision of redhorse, triggered a memory and missed him. Hahaha not Gelo. A certain man. I don’t miss him, at least not frequently. I just hate those times when I see things that remind me of him. Because missing him doesn’t just trigger a memory but a sensorial memory effect. It’s the worst kind really. As if it was a sensorial memory bank that comes alive. It triggers the memory of his touch, his smell, his taste, the sound of his voice, and the sight of your bodies in parallel. Shiet. Love can be sadistic.
Filed under: sweat|blood|tears , cesar ruiz aquino, poetry
