chromosomal-dreams/bikol poem translation: an attempt

It was dark. So dark that the people by the road waiting for a commute were merely silhouettes. One female outline loads the tricycle I was in.

“Breath mints?” She asked, after fumbling in her bag for a packet.
“No, thank you.” I declined, as gracefully as I could manage.
Light intermittently falls on her face, it was still dark outside.
“Wow, you’re really beautiful.” I just had to say.
She mumbles, “Yeah, too bad we’re a pair.”
“What?”
“Too bad there’s two of us, you know, down…down there.” She pointed south.
“You mean– Wh–”
“Yeah.” She admitted with a trace of embarrasment sandwiched by honesty.
“Oh.” Was all I could say. And then, I had to ask: “Ok. just to eliminate this one thing I have in mind, you don’t mean that you have…that you’re carrying your twin somewhere ” and I lift my finger cingularly before me, “inside you?”
She laughs. “No.”

The above is from a dream, this is an almost verbatim account,I shit you not. Weird huh? Maybe I got it from an old House episode where the model had an undeveloped twin brother sending unsolicited brainwaves & hormones through her.

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Another part of this afternoon’s dream: Kids dragging heavy sacks, throwing spoons & forks above our heads. I contemplate cutting the kid’s arm off.
Yep. That’s pretty much it.

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Someone posted Jason Mraz’s latest album: in our shared folder. Only Human reminds of Jamiroquai (whatever happened to him? He of the floor conveyor video, I deemed futuristic those days?) And If it Kills Me calls McCartney (& the rest of the gang)  to mind. All in all, a good vibe while at work.
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An English cover for the Bikol poem,Kung Sabihon Kong Dae Na Ako Namomoot, by Nery Noratay, found here.

If I claim I no longer love

If in a gush, an onrush of otherwise soft breeze, you would ask:
“Do you love me?”
I’d smile to the heavens and speak under my breath:
“I am afraid.”
I feel as if I hold command over the oceans,
but your heart feels like a stream narrowed by eroded earth
And if I rushed to you, your banks might break;
your heart might whelm, instead of dance
to my current… So if in the shroud of midnight you would ask:
“Do you love me?”
I’d plant a kiss and in your eye I would say,
“I’m holding it back.”
Maybe in time I’d learn not to speak to you
Of things about love, or life
But until I stand ready to bleed…
Even as silence leisurely kills me;
(I will keep my lips pursed).