If my country is going to war, yet again...
I want to let you know that I won't kiss you.
No, at least not in vain.
For my kisses does not soothe,
rather they burn.
Like that of a tropical summer afternoon.
I won't even touch your hand.
No, at least not with mine.
For my hands does not heal,
rather they hurt.
Like they wouldn't know you are not enemy.
If my country is already at war, yet again...
I won't indulge myself to hug you.
No, at least not with this body,
a body that could possibly fail and die.
For my body is one that refuses to live,
in and for a land wherein birds cannot fly.
I won't help myself and look into your eyes.
No, at least not this time.
For my eyes are a pair that refuses to look,
at a bloodbath that I've only read in books.
So if my country goes to war, time and again...

I want to let you know, that no...

I won't kiss you in vain, for I will kiss you
until they drag my body and take me away.
Until drops of my blood are flowing in rivers, lagoons, farmlands, grass and grains.
I will touch your hand with the promise of sweet victory.
With the news that my mountains and seas are yours to roam free.
I won't hug you with this body, but with my bodies of water and seas.
Until you are embraced by the wild waves, may you taste their liberty.
I won't look at you with my bloodshot eyes,
but with the promise that you will never again see blood, and with the eternal sunlight over our vast fields and blue skies.

Sé que tú también lo sentirlo,
la misma frustración
que siento en mi corazón.

Sé que tú también lo ves,
compartimos la misma condición
que está llena de dolores.

Sé que tú también puedes oírlo,
las mismas canciones
que canto o escribo en secreto.

Pero sé que ya lo sabes,
compartimos el mismo jardín y mundo
que está lleno de magia y flores.

Bawat huling yakap mo'y katumbas ng sampal,
mga huling halik ng labi mo'y tila latigo ang lapat

Di alintana ang tawanan nila't pangungutya;

Walang higit na sasakit pa
kaysa pagtalikod mo't palayong paglakad.

Bawat hakbang mo'y nadarama ang pagbigat nitong puso,
mga yapak **** dahilan ng makailang dapa at pagkakahulog.

Di na pinapakinggan mga sigaw nila't
di mapunasan kanilang mga dura;

Walang higit na nakakahiya pa
kaysa pagtanggi mo sakin sa harap nila.

Bawat kasinungalingan mo'y
pako sa aking kamay,
mga kasakiman mo'y
pako sa aking binti naman.

Di na alintana ang hapdi at uhaw,
di na hihintayin pa aking huling hininga.

Walang higit na kamatayan
kaysa paglayo mo't paglisan.

Can I see your wine menu? What's the bestseller?

'We have bottles and labels from France, madame'

Oh...

Do you have something stronger?
Something that will knock me off my feet?
Perhaps something more bitter would be better.
Something that will get me home crawling.
Maybe something smoother and a little closer.
French just isn't doing it for me.

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘻-𝘮𝘰𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘳 𝘴'𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢î𝘵.

My kanluran is your nán
but my seas are my sons
and my seas are mine.
It's spelled as seas,
not to be misread as seize.
Feel an unforgiving mother's wrath
through the heat of my sun.

The way you have a way with words,
I bless every book and every poem
that has ever graced your sight.
I praise the letters you've strung thus far,
if I could, I'd stitch them with my own
to make a blanket of letters that would
cover and protect you in the next winter.
Now I am writing astray,
but from my original pseudonym
I am never too far away.
You are the one writing these poems,
I am just your hands and the veins on them.

A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of exceptional beauty...
No matter how rare or how valuable,
a pearl waits indeed.
A pearl waits indeed,
for the bravest of divers...
No matter how long or how far,
to swim deep for her historical harvest.
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of celebrated rarity...
No matter how treacherous the ocean,
a pearl stays still and sits pretty.
A pearl waits indeed,
in the embrace of the sea...
No matter how tumultuous the waves get,
a pearl waits indeed...
A pearl waits...
to be worn as a necklace
or earrings by a poet.
A poet who also refers to herself as a pearl.
A poet so foolishly comparing herself.
But then again, she's not so wrong.
Asking questions to the sky before bed.
Will you pick me up and take me away
from this seabed of moss and loss?
Will you harvest me from the vast ocean
and its mass of loneliness?
A pearl waits...
to be held, touch and kissed by the fingers
of a brave diver, of a worthy surfer...
Or simply by a simple island boy,
whose heart is that of a lion's
and whose hands are able...