Ang Tren (The Train)
from Kathá: Three Poems by José Corazón de Jesús
SMATBB a cappella
5:12 approx.
Ang Tren (The Train) is a setting of Filipino literary giant José Corazón de Jesús’ poem about Philippine commuter culture. The piece is playful, and uses a lot of onomatopoeic textures that imitate the chug and drive of a railroad train from the pre-World War 2 days, creating a bed of images for the text setting. The poem ends on a sentimental note, as de Jesús likens the train’s journey to the travelling heart.
This piece was commissioned by the Cultural Center of the Philippines for the 2015 Andrea O. Veneracion International Choral Festival, specifically to be used as the obligatory piece in the chamber choir category.
Ang Tren (The Train) is one out of three in a set of José Corazón de Jesús poetry settings. The others are Itanong Mo Sa Bituin (Ask the Star) and Manggagawa (Laborer).
ANG TREN (The Train)
by José Corazón de Jesús
Tila ahas na nagmula
sa himpilang kanyang lungga, ang galamay at palikpik, pawang bakal, tanso, tingga,
ang kaliskis lapitan mo’t mga bukas na bintana.
Ang rail na lalakara’y
nakabalatay sa daan,
umaaso ang bunganga at maingay na maingay,
sa Tutuban magmumula’t patutungo sa Dagupan.
O, kung gabi’t masalubong
ang mata ay nagaapoy,
ang silbato sa malayo’y dinig mo pang sumisipol
at hila-hila and kanyang kabit-kabit namang bagon.
Walang pagod ang makina,
may baras na nasa r’weda,
sumisigaw, sumisibad, humuhuni ang pitada,
tumetelenteng ang kanyang kainpanada sa tuwina.
“Kailan ka magbabalik?”
“Hanggang sa hapon ng Martes.”
At tinangay na ng tren ang naglakbay na pag-ibig,
sa bentanilya’y may panyo’t may naiwang nananangis.
~~~
Like a snake coming from
its barracks, its den,
its tentacles and fins, like metal, copper, lead,
its scales, with a closer look, appears to be open windows.
The rail it treads upon
lays itself on the road.
Its mouth reeks of smoke, and is very noisy,
going all the way from Tutuban to Dagupan.
When night comes,
its eyes shine bright like flames,
you can hear the sound of its whistle from afar,
as it restlessly chugs and pulls its interlocking wagons.
The tireless machine
has dents on its wheels,
its horn shouts, rushes, whistles,
relentlessly making noise in the distance.
“When is it coming back?”
“Not ’till Tuesday afternoon.”
As the train carried away a wandering love,
it left behind a handkerchief by a window full of sobs.
Trans. by Joey Vargas