Indigenous Philippines: Bikol Poetry in Translation
Toward St. Elmo’s Isle
by Kristian Sendon CorderoTranslated from Bikol by Marne Kilates
In and out, coming and going,
the stevedores were bustling at the pier.
Feet were racing each other
unloading things needed for the fiesta.
The boat had to leave before eight
or it would be grounded by the receding tide.
For every minute of delay the Enchanted Rock
rose out of the water— the magnetic islet
that even the most skilled pilots feared.
Grains of sand blew
in the wind and stuck to hair.
The spray caught in the skin
of passengers and hardened into salt.
So they chased time.
So time chased them.
