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Wednesday, January 26, 2011

.♥.How the Angels Built Lake Lanao.♥. (Folktale)

Long ago there was no lake in Lanao.  On the place where it is now situated, there flourished a mighty sultanate called Mantapoli.  During the reign of Sultan Abdara Radawi, the greater grandfather of Radia Indarapatra (mythological hero of the Lanao Muslims), this realm expanded by military conquests and by dynastic marriages so that in time its fame spread far and wide.
The population of Mantapoli was numerous and fast increasing.  At that time the world was divided into two regions: Sebangan (East) and Sedpan (West).   The mighty sultanate of Mantapoli belonged to Sebangan.  Because this sultanate rapidly increased in power and population as well, the equilibrium between Sebangan and Sedpan was broken.
This dis-equilibrium soon came to the attention of Archangel Diabarail (Gabriel to the Christians).  Like a flash of sunlight, Diabarail flew to the Eighth heaven and told Allah, "My Lord, why have you permitted the unbalance of the earth?   Because of the power of Mantapoli, Sebangan is now larger than Sedpan."
"Why, Diabarail," replied the Sohara (Voice of Allah), "what is wrong with that?"
"My Lord, Mantapoli has a vast population countless as the particles of dust.  If we will allow this sultanate to remain in Sebangan, I fear that the world would turn upside down, since Sebangan is heavier than Sedpan."
"Your words show great wisdom, Diabarail," commented the Sohara.
"What must we do, my Lord, to avert the impending catastrophe?"
To this query, the Sohara replied, "Go right away to the Seven-Regions-Beneath-the-Earth and to the Seven-Regions-in-the-Sky and gather all the angels.  I will cause a barahana (solar eclipse) and in the darkness let the angels remove Mantapoli and transfer it to the center of the earth."
Upon receiving the mandate of Allah, Archangel Diabarail, traveling faster than lightning, rallied the millions of angels from the Seven-Regions-Beneath-the-Earth and the Seven-Regions-in-the-Sky.  With this formidable army, he presented himself to Allah, saying, "My Lord, we are ready to obey Your command."
The Sohara spoke, "Go to Sebangan, and lift the land of Mantapoli."
Diabarail, leading his army of angels, flew to the east.  In the twinkle of an eye, the sun vanished and a terrible darkness as black as the blackest velvet shrouded the universe.  The angels sped faster than arrows.  They swooped on Mantapoli, lifting it with great care and carried it (including its people, houses, crops and animals) through the air as if it were a carpet.  They brought it down at the center of the earth, in accordance with the command of Allah.  The very spot vacated by the sultanate of Mantapoli became a huge basin of deep, blue water-the present Lanao Lake.
The waters coming from the deep bowels of the earth rose higher and higher.  Archangel Diabarail, seeing the rising tides immediately returned to the Eighth Heaven and reported to Allah, "My Lord, the earth is now balanced.  But the place where we removed Mantapoli is becoming an ocean.  The waters are rising fast, and unless an outlet for them can be found, I fear that they might inundate Sebangan and drown all Your people."
In response, the Sohara said, "You are right, Diabarail.  Go out, then, and summon the Four Winds of the World: Angin Taupan, Angin Besar, Angin Darat, and Angin Sarsar.  Tell them to blow and make an outlet for the overflowing waters."
Obeying the Master's command, the faithful messenger summoned the Four Winds.  "By the Will of Allah," he told them, "blow your best, and make an outlet for the rising waters of the new lake."
The four winds of the world blew, and a turbulence swept the whole eastern half of the earth.  The surging waters rolled swiftly towards the shores of Tilok Bay to the southeastern direction.  But the towering ranges impeded their onrush.   The Four Winds blew, hurling the waves against the rocky slopes but in vain; no outlet could be cut through the mountain barrier.
Changing direction, this time eastward, the Four Winds blew harder driving the raging waters towards the shores of Sugud Bay (situated east of Dansalan, now Marawi City).  Once again, the attempt to create an outlet failed because the bay was too far from the sea.
For the third time, the Four Winds changed direction and blew their hardest.  The waves, plunging with ferocity, rolled towards Marawi.  Day and night, the Winds blew as the waters lashed against the shoreline of Marawi.  This time the attempt succeeded.  An outlet now called Agus River was made, and through the outlet, that water of Lake Lanao poured out to the sea, thereby saving Sebangan from a deluge.
It came to past that there was a high cliff at the outlet, and over the cliff the waters cascaded in majestic volume.  Thus, arose the beautiful falls which, aeons later, was named Maria Cristina, after a famous queen of Spain.


http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/folktales/Maranao/how_the_angels_built_lake_lanao.htm

.♥. Ang Langgam at ang Tipaklong (the Ant and the Grasshopper) .♥. (FOLKTALE)


The story started in a harvest time in the countryside. The grasshopper was very happy singing and jumping and went on celebrating the whole day because of the abundance of food that day, while the ant was busy collecting and keeping foods in its house. The grasshopper asked the ant why it needs to work hard to collect and keep foods with the fact that they have lots of supply because its harvest time. The ant said that it is a preparation for the rainy season. The grasshopper thought that it was a stupid thing to do so it went on dancing and singing while the ant went on gathering foods to be saved...
Rainy season came and the grasshopper has nothing to eat and can not go out to look for food because everything is wet. The ant, on the other hand, has no problem at all because everything is fine in its house and it has lots of food supplies saved even before the rainy season.
The grasshopper wanted to ask for food fom the ant but it can not go to the ants house so the grasshopper died wishing..."if only i had listened to the ant."
The lesson is that, we should not waste our resources today. We should save for the future. The present generation, political leaders and all leaders of the world, please do not exploit the resources of the earth for our children and our children''s children...i beg you, please listen to the ant.


http://www.shvoong.com/books/children-and-youth/1777530-ang-langgam-ang-tipaklong-ant/

♥. Mi Ultimo Adios .♥.

¡Adiós, Patria adorada, región del sol querida,
Perla del mar de oriente, nuestro perdido Edén!
A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
Y fuera más brillante, más fresca, más florida,
También por ti la diera, la diera por tu bien.

En campos de batalla, luchando con delirio,
Otros te dan sus vidas sin dudas, sin pesar;
El sitio nada importa, ciprés, laurel o lirio,
Cadalso o campo abierto, combate o cruel martirio,
Lo mismo es si lo piden la patria y el hogar.

Yo muero cuando veo que el cielo se colora
Y al fin anuncia el día tras lóbrego capuz;
si grana necesitas para teñir tu aurora,
Vierte la sangre mía, derrámala en buen hora
Y dórela un reflejo de su naciente luz.

Mis sueños cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,
Mis sueños cuando joven ya lleno de vigor,
Fueron el verte un día, joya del mar de oriente,
Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,
Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo,
¡Salud te grita el alma que pronto va a partir!
¡Salud! Ah, que es hermoso caer por darte vuelo,
Morir por darte vida, morir bajo tu cielo,
Y en tu encantada tierra la eternidad dormir.

Si sobre mi sepulcro vieres brotar un día
Entre la espesa yerba sencilla, humilde flor,
Acércala a tus labios y besa al alma mía,
Y sienta yo en mi frente bajo la tumba fría,
De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja a la luna verme con luz tranquila y suave,
Deja que el alba envíe su resplandor fugaz,
Deja gemir al viento con su murmullo grave,
Y si desciende y posa sobre mi cruz un ave,
Deja que el ave entone su cántico de paz.

Deja que el sol, ardiendo, las lluvias evapore
Y al cielo tornen puras, con mi clamor en pos;
Deja que un ser amigo mi fin temprano llore
Y en las serenas tardes cuando por mí alguien ore,
¡Ora también, oh Patria, por mi descanso a Dios!

Ora por todos cuantos murieron sin ventura,
Por cuantos padecieron tormentos sin igual,
Por nuestras pobres madres que gimen su amargura;
Por huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura
Y ora por ti que veas tu redención final.

Y cuando en noche oscura se envuelva el cementerio
Y solos sólo muertos queden velando allí,
No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio,
Tal vez acordes oigas de cítara o salterio,
Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a ti.

Y cuando ya mi tumba de todos olvidada
No tenga cruz ni piedra que marquen su lugar,
Deja que la are el hombre, la esparza con la azada,
Y mis cenizas, antes que vuelvan a la nada,
El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan a formar.

Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido.
Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré.
Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oído,
Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido,
Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fe.

Mi patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,
Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adiós.
Ahí te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.
Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores,
Donde la fe no mata, donde el que reina es Dios.

Adiós, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,
Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,
Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;
Adiós, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría,
Adiós, queridos seres, morir es descansar. 



http://www.knowledgerush.com/kr/jsp/db/board.jsp?id=20513

♥.My Last Farewell (English) .♥. (Mi Ultimo Adios)

farewell, beloved Country, treasured region of the sun,
Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our lost Eden!
To you eagerly I surrender this sad and gloomy life;
And were it brighter, fresher, more florid,
Even then I’d give it to you, for your sake alone.

In fields of battle, deliriously fighting,
Others give you their lives, without doubt, without regret;
The place matters not: where there’s cypress, laurel or lily,
On a plank or open field, in combat or cruel martyrdom,
It’s all the same if the home or country asks.

I die when I see the sky has unfurled its colors
And at last after a cloak of darkness announces the day;
If you need scarlet to tint your dawn,
Shed my blood, pour it as the moment comes,
And may it be gilded by a reflection of the heaven’s newly-born light.

My dreams, when scarcely an adolescent,
My dreams, when a young man already full of life,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the sea of the Orient,
Dry those eyes of black, that forehead high,
Without frown, without wrinkles, without stains of shame.

My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire,
This soul that will soon depart cries out: Salud!
To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to give you flight,
To die to give you life, to die under your sky,
And in your enchanted land eternally sleep.

If upon my grave one day you see appear,
Amidst the dense grass, a simple humble flower,
Place it near your lips and my soul you’ll kiss,
And on my brow may I feel, under the cold tomb,
The gentle blow of your tenderness, the warmth of your breath.

Let the moon see me in a soft and tranquil light,
Let the dawn send its fleeting radiance,
Let the wind moan with its low murmur,
And should a bird descend and rest on my cross,
Let it sing its canticle of peace.

Let the burning sun evaporate the rains,
And with my clamor behind, towards the sky may they turn pure;
Let a friend mourn my early demise,
And in the serene afternoons, when someone prays for me,
O Country, pray to God also for my rest!

Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died,
For all who suffered torments unequaled,
For our poor mothers who in their grief and bitterness cry,
For orphans and widows, for prisoners in torture,
And for yourself pray that your final redemption you’ll see.

And when the cemetery is enveloped in dark night,
And there, alone, only those who have gone remain in vigil,
Disturb not their rest, nor the mystery,
And should you hear chords from a zither or psaltery,
It is I, beloved Country, singing to you.

And when my grave, then by all forgotten,
has not a cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let men plow and with a spade scatter it,
And before my ashes return to nothing,
May they be the dust that carpets your fields.

Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion.
Your atmosphere, your space and valleys I’ll cross.
I will be a vibrant and clear note to your ears,
Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and song,
Constantly repeating the essence of my faith.

My idolized country, sorrow of my sorrows,
Beloved Filipinas, hear my last good-bye.
There I leave you all, my parents, my loves.
I’ll go where there are no slaves, hangmen nor oppressors,
Where faith doesn’t kill, where the one who reigns is God.

Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters, fragments of my soul,
Childhood friends in the home now lost,
Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome day;
Goodbye, sweet foreigner, my friend, my joy;
Farewell, loved ones, to die is to rest. 



http://www.knowledgerush.com/kr/jsp/db/board.jsp?id=20513

. Katapusang Hibik Ng Pilipinas .♥.

Andres Bonifacio (1896) Sumikat na Ina sa sinisilangan ang araw ng poot ng Katagalugan, tatlong daang taong aming iningatan sa dagat ng dusa ng karalitaan. Walang isinuhay kaming iyong anak sa bagyong masasal ng dalita't hirap; iisa ang puso nitong PIlipinas at ikaw ay di na Ina naming lahat. Sa kapuwa Ina'y wala kang kaparis... ang layaw ng anak: dalita't pasakit; pag nagpatirapang sa iyo'y humibik, lunas na gamot mo ay kasakit-sakit. Gapusing mahigpit ang mga Tagalog, hinain sa sikad, kulata at suntok, makinahi't biting parang isang hayop; ito baga, Ina, ang iyong pag-irog? Ipabilanggo mo't sa dagat itapon; barilin, lasunin, nang kami'y malipol. Sa aming Tagalog, ito baga'y hatol Inang mahabagin, sa lahat ng kampon? Aming tinitiis hanggang sa mamatay; bangkay nang mistula'y ayaw pang tigilan, kaya kung ihulog sa mga libingan, linsad na ang buto't lumuray ang laman. Wala nang namamana itong pIlipinas na layaw sa Ina kundi pawang hirap; tiis ay pasulong, patente'y nagkalat, rekargo't impuwesto'y nagsala-salabat. Sarisaring silo sa ami'y inisip, kasabay ng utos na tuparing pilit, may sa alumbrado---kaya kaming tikis, kahit isang ilaw ay walang masilip. Ang lupa at buhay na tinatahanan, bukid at tubigang kalawak-lawakan, at gayon din pati ng mga halaman, sa paring Kastila ay binubuwisan. Bukod pa sa rito'y ang mga iba pa, huwag nang saysayin, O Inang Espanya, sunod kaming lahat hanggang may hininga, Tagalog di'y siyang minamasama pa. Ikaw nga, O Inang pabaya't sukaban, kami'y di na iyo saan man humanggan, ihanda mo, Ina, ang paglilibingan sa mawawakawak na maraming bangkay. Sa sangmaliwanag ngayon ay sasabog ang barila't kanyong katulad ay kulog, ang sigwang masasal sa dugong aagos ng kanilang bala na magpapamook. Di na kailangan sa iyo ng awa ng mga Tagalog, O Inang kuhila, paraiso namin ang kami'y mapuksa, langit mo naman ang kami'y madusta. Paalam na Ina, itong Pilipinas, paalam na Ina, itong nasa hirap, paalam, paalam, Inang walang habag, paalam na ngayon, katapusang tawag.
http://brylits.tripod.com/spakat.html











               

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May Bagyo Ma't Rilim.♥

Ang ola'y, titiguisin,
Aco'y, magpipilit din:
Acquing paglalacbayin
Toloyin cong hanapin
Dios na ama namin.

Cun di man magupiling
Tocsong mabaomabaoin,
Aco'y, mangangahas din:
Itong libro'y, basahin,
At dito co hahangoin
Acquing sasandatahin.

Cun dati mang nabulag
Aco'y, pasasalamat,
Na ito ang liunag
Dios ang nagpahayag
Sa Padreng bagsiulat
Nitong mabuting sulat.

Naguiua ma't, nabagbag
Daloyong matataas,
Aco'y magsusumicad
Babagohin ang lacas;
Dito rin hahaguilap
Timbulang icaligtas.

Cun lompo ma't, cun pilay
Anong di icahacbang
Naito ang aacay
Magtuturo nang daan:
Toncod ay inilaan
Sucat pagcatibayan.


http://tagaloglang.com/Philippine-Literature/Tagalog-Poems/may-bagyo-mat-rilim.html

Monday, January 17, 2011

ASSIGNMENT:4 EPICS

Krishna is usually regarded as the eight incarnation of lord Vishnu and was born in the Dvarpara Yuga as the "dark one". Lord Krishna is the embodiment of love and divine joy, that destroys all pain and sin. He is the protector of sacred utterances and cows. Krishna is an instigator of all forms of knowledge and born to establish the religion of love.
Little Krishna
Krishna was born as the 8th child of Devaki, sister of the cruel demon king Kamsa. The sage Narada had predicted that Kamsa would be killed by his nephew, so the king killed Devaki´s first six children. The 7th, Balarama escaped and the 8th, Krishna, was secretly exchanged for a cowherds daughter.
The demon king Kansa send many demons to kill Krishna, but all were defeated. Among them were the whrilwind demon Trinavata, Vatasura disguised as a calf, the enormous crane Bakasura, Aghasura the demon snake and the monstrous horse Keshisura. Lord Krishna also mastered the five-headed demon snake Kaliya, to stop it from poisoning the holy river Yamuna and send it back to the ocean. He jumped on the snake from a big Kadamba tree and then defeated him by dancing on his heads.
Krishna was brought up in a cowherds family and loved to play the flute to entertain the other cowherds, the milkmaids, and the cows. As a child, Krishna had great love for his foster-mother Yashoda and their relationship stands as a great exemple for the love between a mother and her child. Krishna also became very famous for teasing the milkmaids of Vrindavan as well as Yashoda. He and his friends would steal milk and butter, let the cows go free at milking time, hide the clothes of bathing girls or even break the water pots the milkmaids were carrying on their heads. Little Krishna was not just teasing purely for the fun of it. He wanted to destroy the ignorance of his devotees, teaching them not to be attached to matter and forms and only focus on him. As such, Lord Krishna is the deity of Hasya or Humour and a messenger of peace.
Krishna and RadhaKrishna, Radha and Leela
Radha and Krishna are the divine couple that rules love, romance and the aesthetic sense. Radha was foremost among the milkmaids of Vrindavan, as the incarnation of Lakshmi, Vishnu's spouse and Krishna's obvious favorite.
Love and devotion may also find beautiful expression in the relationship between lovers. In India, women often see their husbands as Krishna, while men see their wives as Radha, the beloved. When men become gods and women goddesses, then we do not see the imperfections, and see only perfection, divinity. Surrender and serving each other are the keys to any good relationship, which becomes a rehearsal of surrender to the universe and the divine.
While Krishna's love was truly universal, Radha sometimes expressed feelings of jealousy. Like it is shown in the painting here, one day Radha became jealous of Lord Krishna' flute, because it was allowed to touch his lips and because he would breath his prana into it. Thus she took it from Krishna and then did not want to return it. Some thus see the relationship between Krishna and Radha as the love between god and man, between self and ego.
One moonlit night, Krishna multiplied his body into many to dance with all the milkmaids and fulfill their desire for union with him. The love between Krishna and the milkmaids represents the divine play (Leela) between reality (consciousness) and illusion (form), purusha (soul) and prakriti (primordial nature), divinity and humanity. The maidens dance around Krishna as electrons dance around the nucleus of every atom, and as body molecules and energies dance around the soul of every being.
Lord Krishna was only eight years old when he left Vrindavan and and his beloved Radha to study in the ashram of the saint Sandeepani. Therefore, everything that happened between Krishna and Radha or Krishna and the milkmaids took place when they were children. They were all very conscious of being incarnations of divine beings and saints. Whatever happened between them can only have been very romantic and spiritual. A lot of it was child-play.
Bhakti for KrishnaKrishna and Bhakti
After Krishna killed Kansa, he became king. In the great Mahabaratha epic, Krishna spoke memorable words on the essence of Bhakti Yoga or the yoga of pure spiritual devotion. During the battle of Kurukshetra, Lord Krishna revealed to Arjuna the essence of Bhakti Yoga, of love for God which is love. This revelation is found in the famous Hindu scripture called the Bhagavad Gita. The Deity is the beloved and the devotee is the lover. When the Bhakta is blessed by divine grace he feels undivided union and non-dual consciousness.
Bhakti Yoga is regarded as the most direct method to merge in cosmic consciousness. Food, sex, sleep, attachments, responsibilities - all are no longer important in Bhakti Yoga : only worship is. Paintings and sculptures of deities are an essential part of the Hindu worship known as Puja. In temples or home shrines, one finds images of many gods and goddesses that are worshipped on a daily basis, decorated with flowers and offered food and incense, such as this Krishna statue.