“When I think of you, I think of kindness, wisdom, and love. Thanks for being you

I wept an ocean of tears and left you in the depths of sorrow

You were like the Moon to my dark sky, for one moment,
And a lost star in another.
You were like a sigh of relief for one moment,
And a breath to fight hard for, in another.
You were like one moment's epiphany,
And a beautiful stranger in another.

Hindi kalayuan ang mga bituin
Kung ito’y sagad na susumahin
Di hamak na mas mahirap marating
Ang pusong hinding hindi mo ma-angkin

Hindi kalayuan ang pangarap
Kung ito’y sakdal nasang makaharap
Di hamak na mas malayo ang agwat
Ng dalawang pusong di magka sabwat

Pangarap kong maisulat kita sa aking mga tula
Pangarap ko ring maisulat mo ako sa iyong mga akda
Sana’y sing dali tayong maglapit at maglapat
Na tulad ng mga papel at kanyang panulat.


© 2020 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
  The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
  None so devotional as that of “Mother,”
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—
  You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,
  In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother—my own mother, who died early,
  Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
  And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
  Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.