The other day, hours before the concert of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra began, I wandered off through the floors of the Cultural Center of the Philippines. I was in awe as I walked along the paintings lining the walls of the building. Studying each stroke, each hue, I found myself lost amongst the colors that struck a chord in my heart. I ask myself, what was the artist feeling when he painted this piece? After looking at the paintings I went one floor up where the museum was. It was a place where one could find his or her roots. Looking at the pieces from behind glass cases, I was amazed at how our country has so many riches to impart to us. But sadly, our generation has forgotten. Gone are the days when one would use the gamelan and the gongs to produce music, or the gitara or the rondalla. Now its rock music here, sentimental music there, pop music everywhere. Our traditional music, almost gone with the changing times. A few more steps and I was in a place where folk dances where shown. National treasures that boasts of a rich heritage. I gaze sadly on the fine jewelry that our Ifugao sisters wore, or the headdresses our Ifugao brothers wore proudly on their heads. The sarongs that clothed our Maranaw relatives and the dialects lost on our now foreign tongues as we embraced other cultures. As I left the museum, a muse inspired me to write this poem in Filipino.
"Bughaw, pula, puti at luntian,
Simbolo ng ating mayaman na kalinangan.
Musikang umaalingawngaw mula sa hilaga hanggang sa timog,
Wala ng init na nararamdaman kundi hamog.
Malungkot na mga matang nakatitig sa nakakalimutang kinagisnan,
Gintong mga alahas ninais ng mga dayuhan,
Makulay na kultura, unti-unting nawawaglit,
Hindi nililingon kahit isang saglit.
Masakit sa damdamin, bakit kinagisnan na kultura'y hindi muling yakapin,
Pagka't kinabukasang banyaga ang sinasalamin,
Sayang sa isang gusali na lamang ito namamahay,
Pagka't panahon ng teknolohiya ang bumawi ng kanyang buhay..."
In english:
"Blue, red, white and green,
Symbols of our rich culture,
Music that echoes from the North to the South,
Warmth is no longer felt, except the cold.
Sad eyes that looks on over a forgotten heritage,
Gold that were desired by foreign invaders,
Colorful culture that is gradually being forgotten,
It's not even given a second glance.
It's saddening to know that we cannot embrace our heritage back,
Our choice to only see the foreign future in the mirror,
Saddened that a building houses our only culture,
For technology has taken its life away..."
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