From the Remains (translated by Eric Abalajon)
Flat by Olivia Rombak
Translator’s Note
Jhio Jan Navarro’s work is deeply rooted in his upbringing in Negros Occidental, a province in the Philippines historically defined by sugar plantations established during the Spanish colonial period and reaching their peak under American rule. The sugar industry has since declined and remains a topic of significant contention, particularly among the communities most directly affected. Several of his poems document social injustices, particularly harsh labor conditions and the violence of counterinsurgency campaigns aimed at suppressing a decades-long armed rebellion. Even in his more meditative works—From the Remains and Agua de Mayo (both in Filipino) and Blood Sacrifice (in Hiligaynon)—death and perseverance remain inseparable.
In chronicling a planting cycle in “From the Remains,” the word “remains” appears twice. The first instance is euphemistic, referring to the animals to be taken care of by the snake. In the second, I still chose “remains” rather than the literal translation of abo (“ashes”) to evoke a more figurative sense of the peasants’ collective labor, highlighting a trace of hope and promise amid the otherwise grueling work that lies ahead.
“Daga” is a concise Hiligaynon term rooted in local geomancy. It could be translated as “blood offering” rather than “sacrifice,” but I chose the latter because Navarro highlights the asymmetrical relationship between humans and animals—showing how animals serve merely as instruments in attempts to control people’s fate.
“Agua de Mayo” captures the anticipation of the rainy season. While the poem may read as idyllic or pastoral, it also reflects the continued dependence on rain due to the underdevelopment of irrigation systems in the country. I retained the Spanish term Agua de Mayo rather than translating it as “First Rain of May” as some Filipino authors have, in order to maintain its historical resonance with the colonial-era plantation regime that persists even in contemporary language.
These translations intend to keep Navarro’s intricate imagery and cultural specificity while allowing English readers to encounter the entanglements of labor, ritual, and survival in his poems.
From the Remains
Translated from the Filipino
When the sun sets"
peasants set free
the snake.
It crawls in the sugarcane field
and devours all the remains
after the harvest.
Grass and dried leaves.
Rats and frogs
Spiders and insects.
Entangling itself, hissing
and molting. It left ash-colored skin
in the small palm of the earth.
When nothing is left,
it bit its own tail
swallowing itself.
Tomorrow, children will fly
their kites in the field
And later, sugarcane will grow
from the remains.
Mula Sa Abo
Sa paglubog ng araw
pinakawalan ng mga magsasaka
ang ahas.
Gumapang ito sa tubuhan
at sinagpang ang lahat
ng natira pagkatapos ng anihan.
Damo at tuyong dahon.
Daga at palaka.
Gagambat mga kulisap.
Sumalabid ito’t sumagitsit
at nagluno. Nag-iwan ng balat na abo
sa munting palad ng mundo.
Nang wala nàng natira,
ay tinuklaw niya ang kanyang buntot
hanggang sa ang sarili ay nilunok.
Bukas, magpapalipad ng saranggola
ang mga bata sa bukid.
At paglaon, uusbong ang tubo
mula sa abo.
—————
JHIO JAN NAVARRO hails from the island of Negros in the Philippines. Translations of his poems have appeared in or are forthcoming in Modern Poetry in Translation, Asymptote, and Poetry Northwest. He is currently based in the island of Panay, working as an instructor at the University of the Philippines Visayas.
ERIC ABALAJON’s translations have appeared in Circumference Magazine, The Polyglot, Exchanges: Journal of Literary Translation, and Tripwire: a journal of poetics. His first book is the bilingual edition of sa ibang katawan / a different body (2025) by Lean Borlongan. He was also shortlisted for the Poetry in Translation Prize for his translation of “Just Land” by Jaku Mata. He lives near Iloilo City.