A seed of faith I planted with trust
Promised to grow like how Mother wanted and just
As the reflections of the past must be recognized,
And the fruits of seedlings shall be embraced and not idealized.

I believe a little hope shall never be wasted,
By the burning and loving soul, I am guided
So those who conform are the very worst
From the petrichor of a traitor who's cursed.

The power of knowing we are privileged
Even foliaceous dialects are bound by one language
I am honored and proud, as opposed to loathing
Let us re-unveil the warmest smile to the Land of the Morning.

On this ground, a sprouting mind threatens hundreds of men
’Til the leaves have fallen, our blood will still be golden.

For every soliloquy preached, a demon is exorcised;
It is always better to speak than to die.

A planned goodbye will never be a bland goodbye.

Embracing the warmness of your kingdom
Where we engaged and entertain our boredom,
While no other man should’st compete to measure
Among out-worldly wood is just the golden treasure!

And we hath the night to dance with rhythm
Inescapable ’til pale, ’til this second baptism.
Write your name through the dimensions of my back
Fill it with scratches — I’ll be all bite no bark!

As I shove aside the heavenly mountains,
Sensing the butterflies all o’er your rib cage;
As I wreck the breadth of scenic canyons,
Demolishing the routes of your village;
As I sink to the bed of shallow lakes,
Hitting the reset button — curling your phalanges.

Simply cease once you learned each detail, every vein;
’Til your cherry red blood became zirconia porcelain.
Be the cat that will get my tongue
To this curious inamorato who yearns unsung.

Look at me proudly and masochistically!
Even the sheet acknowledges how cryptic
The wholeheartedly cries we reflect
From a passionate gentleman with no respect.

Sa mga mata ng makata,
iisang paraluman lamang ang itinatala
Na sa bawat linya, ika niya,
may kariktang natatangi’t mahiwaga
At sa bawat saknong tila nagsusumbong
ang dalisay na hango’t may pasalubong.

Marahil sa mga mata ng isang makata,
duyog ng mga sariling nagkaugnay ang naaaninag
Sa mga tala at sa kaniyang iniirog,
ay payapa sa pag-asang walang pahimakas
at kailanma’y sasamuing wala nang bukas.

Hanggang sa huling hinga ng makata,
iisang paraluman pa rin ang itatala
Ang tanging pamamaraan ng wakas
mga katagang hindi pambibilog,
linyang mag-iiwan ng mga rosas,
tinik sa mahigpit na pagbigkis
ng dalawang labing naghihinagpis.