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Results for mighty hunter translation from English to Tagalog

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English

Hunter

Tagalog

Pangangaso

Last Update: 2013-07-22
Usage Frequency: 1
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Reference: Wikipedia

English

hunter

Tagalog

diksiyonaryo

Last Update: 2013-03-05
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

hunter

Tagalog

mangangaso

Last Update: 2014-07-21
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

mighty power

Tagalog

malakas na kapangyarihan

Last Update: 2015-06-17
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

Monster hunter

Tagalog

maninikil

Last Update: 2014-06-14
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

summary of novel city hunter

Tagalog

buod ng nobelang city hunter

Last Update: 2015-02-05
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

Well, that is mighty kind of you.

Tagalog

Aba, mabait talaga ikaw.

Last Update: 2016-10-27
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

The once mighty River Jordan is now just a trickle.

Tagalog

Ang dating makapangyarihang Ilog Jordan,ngayon ay lumiit na.

Last Update: 2016-10-27
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

I have to say you have a mighty fine body there, little lady.

Tagalog

Maganda po talaga kayo, Ginang.

Last Update: 2016-10-27
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens.

Tagalog

Pagsasalin sa pangalatok

Last Update: 2014-12-18
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

You're Cho the Sword Hunter, one of Shishio's Ten Swords.

Tagalog

Ikaw si Cho, ang mananandata, miyembro ng Sampung Espada ni Shishio.

Last Update: 2016-10-27
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

Students' Life Testimonials, Success Stories & Galleries HomeStudents' LifeTestimonialsA Tribute to Parents Testimonials A Tribute to Parents Published: Monday, 18 May 2015 13:46 Maizel Ann V. Ontanillas Culinary Arts Intensive - 9 This world has many heroes, most of it we know by name. They give their best at what they do, so they deserve their fame. But among all those heroes this world has ever had, there are two more people that we can’t forget to mention and that is our mom and dad, mama and papa, nanay and tatay, ermats and erpats and whatever we may call them, when we hear the word HERO and the great things they have done, it will always remind us of our parents because they are our greatest one. Thinking back on all of the times we have let you down, those wrong turns and bad decisions that we had, it would be no surprise if we have those seats empty, and yet you guys are still here, with great big smiles and looking so proud of what we, your children, have achieved. You were right beside us, lifting our heads up on times that we are down. You scolded us on times that we needed to be scolded and we totally understand that you only did that because you only want what’s best for us. Your sacrifices to raise us to who we are now, faithful prayers and a lot of patience gave us stepping stones to reach our goals. You saw us as who we were to become and did not limit us to just what could have been. You guys supported us as we open our wings so we can fly and reach our dreams. You, our parents, invested in us – financially, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually and in every way that you can pour yourselves to us. Your love for us is truly immeasurable and we will be forever grateful for your love. I can still remember when I am still a baby, my mother can’t figure out why I kept on crying despite giving every attention I needed, very worried she approached my father and told him about my situation, as my father, he is also worried about why I won’t stop on crying, so they both decided to bring to the nearest hospital, before civilization is still not as high tech as now, my father have to fill up gas in our old car through blowing the pump up and transfer it to the gas tank as the gas reaches almost top of the hose and because of my nonstop crying, my father panicked and accidentally drank gasoline, imagine my father drinking gasoline just because of his crying child who just wants to be cradled to sleep? To my father, thank you so much for being my father, I am blessed to have you in my life ‘tay, thank you for all the sacrifices you have given to our family, we may not talk that much as I am growing and I may not tell you this often, but let me have this opportunity to tell you this in front of all the people here, you will always be my number one superhero tatay, thank you for everything, I Love You. And every superhero needs a partner right? Way back my younger years, I will never forget that moments me and my mother had every summer, in our little bahay kubo in Don Carlos, Bukidnon, my supermom would teach me basic things that I needed to learn like washing dishes, cleaning and most of all our bonding during cooking time – I guess from there on, I had this inspiration in me to proceed Culinary. We may argue at times, and I can be so demanding yet your patience and understanding for me is still 100 and 10 percent, I failed many times at my subjects in Nursing School but still you and tatay supported me and even told me as I am losing hope in graduating nursing “retake lang gud sa subject nak, di bitaw na mudagan and skwelahan, ang importante makahuman ka kay mao ragyud na among maipa-mana sa imoha” I kept those words on my mind that I shouldn’t give up that easy because even my parents won’t give on me and who would have known, I can finish two courses in my lifetime? Because I was inspired to aim high in life. To my superhero mother, Thank you for bearing the pain of child birth and bringing me up in this world and thank you for your endless support to me and my dreams. I Love you Nanay. And to all the parents here; thank you for guiding us, training us and shaping us to what we have become now. Your seeds of encouragement have been planted and grown. Thank you for your consistent faithfulness to us. As we close this door and open another, a big thank you for all your hard work, discipline and love. Your prayers and presence in our lives made us of what we are now, ACHIEVERS. And we salute you, our mighty and wonderful heroes, our mother and father. Thank you and Good Afternoon! Other Testimonials Chef Instructor Hannah Lei Tiro Sarah Graduation Speech A Tribute to Parents A Tribute by Marinella Pagalan A Tribute by Marco Macapayad An Inspirational Message A Tribute by Candice Maureen M. Riconalla Success Stories Chef Agnes Cover Now that she’s an up-and-coming Chef Entrepreneur in the Industry with her newly opened Bistro ... READ MORE ... Video Gallery gallery cover A video library of our various events in and out of campus. WATCH Students In Action gallery cover A photo gallery of various campus and student activities. VIEW Contact Us image (088) 852-1808 0917-5039-786 0908-8753-691 image 3rd Floor, Legacy Building Antonio Luna Street Cagayan de Oro Misamis Oriental Philippines 9000 image admin@proworld-cic.com INQUIRE HERE Site Management by WebMax | Site Map Find Us at: icon facebook icon googleplus icon instagram HOME ABOUT US Our Partners PEOPLE Administration Alfredo Limbaga Restie Garcia Chef Lourdes Caudal Chef Hannah Lei Tiro Chef James Damasco Edna Arante Jasmine Camugao Roque Aban Cherly Tidon Dennis Vallespin Wellie Sales Chefs Chef Anthony Troy Morales Chef Nadine Madrigal Chef Jerico Chua Chef Edward David Mateo Chef Rency de Jesus Chef Pearlie Tan Chef Audrey Ramos PROGRAMS Certificate/Diploma Programs Specialized Courses Baking Workshops International Cusine Workshops Young Chefs Workshops Balikbayan/OFW Course SCHEDULE STUDENTS' LIFE Testimonials Success Stories Photo Library Video Library

Tagalog

pagkilala sa mga magulang ng mensahe

Last Update: 2019-03-18
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous
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English

rivers like people also have their own names. If it is mighty, noisy river, it is apt to be called matubig. If it flows quitely and leisurely you know just like takinga walk in the moonlight, you can call it, malamig, and so on

Tagalog

Ang mga ilog katulad ng mga tao ay mayroon ding kanilang sariling mga pangalan

Last Update: 2019-02-09
Usage Frequency: 1
Quality:

Reference: Anonymous

English

[narrator] Once upon the last day of a golden summer, there was a boy... and bear. The boy, whom we shall meet in a moment, was called Christopher Robin. The bear was called Winnie the Pooh. And together they had many grand adventures in a remarkable place called the Hundred Acre Wood. But the grandest and most extraordinary of all their adventures was still to begin. T oday, I believe, is a good day for being Pooh. [hums] And here, I should say, is a good place for being Pooh. [hums] Any reason that I think of is a good one for being Pooh. [hums] [Iaughs] But the very best reason of all is... [boy] Pooh Bear. ...being with my very best friend, Christopher Robin. You are just in time for the best part of the day. What part is that? The part when you and me... ...become we. [clattering] Pooh,... there's something I have to tell you. Is it something nice? Not exactly. Then it can wait. It can? For how Iong? For ever and ever. # For ever and ever # Is a very long time, Pooh [chuckles] # Forever isn't long at all # When I'm with you [laughs] # I wanna call your name forever # And you will always answer forever # And both of us will be Forever you and me # For ever and ever [creaking, pop] # I wanna stay like this forever [Pooh Iaughs] # If only I could promise forever [Iaughing echoes] # Then we could just be we # Forever you and me [both] # For ever and ever # For ever and ever # Is a very long time, Pooh [Pooh chuckles] # Forever isn't long at all, Christopher # When I'm with you [Pooh chuckles] # I wanna be with you forever [echoes] # I want you right here beside me forever # One thing you should know # No matter where I go # We'll always be together # For ever and ever # [narrator] And so they stayed together, doing all the things a boy and a bear could do. And when the day began to end, Christopher Robin had quite forgotten he still had something to tell Pooh. [Christopher] Pooh Bear, there's one thing we didn't do today. [Pooh] And what thing might that be? [Christopher] Uh... nothing. Nothing? Christopher Robin, what exactly is "doing nothing"? Well, I'm told it means going along, Iistening to all of the things you can't hear, and not bothering. It's when people say "What are you two doing?" And we say "Oh, nothing." And we do it. This is sort of a nothing thing we're doing right now. I wish it could Iast forever. Well, then we must do it again tomorrow. And the tomorrow after. And the tomorrow following that. Pooh Bear,... what if... some day... there came a tomorrow when we were apart? As Iong as we're apart together we shall certainly be fine. [chuckles] Yes, yes, of course. But if we weren't together? If I were somewhere else? [chuckles] But you really couldn't be, as I would be quite Iost without you. Who would I call... [buzzing] ...on those days when I'm just not strong enough, or brave enough? Well, actually... And who would I ask for advice when I didn't know which way to turn? Pooh, we... We... We simply wouldn't be. [yawns] Oh, Pooh. If ever there's a tomorrow when we're not together, there's something you must remember. [yawns] And what might that be, Christopher Robin? You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. [chuckles] Oh, that's easy. [clears throat] We are braver than a bee, and, uh, Ionger than a tree, and taller than a goose. Or was that a moose? [both chuckle] No, silly old bear. You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem... and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is... even if we're apart... I'II always be with you. [Pooh chuckles] I'II always be with you. [echoing] AIways be with you. [Pooh moans] [birds twitter] [mutters] [snores] Braver than our beans. [snores] Longer when we gleam. [snores] Hum dee duh de dum. Hm dee duh-duh dee. [mutters] [Iaughs] Hello, Christopher Robin. I can't seem to remember the... To remember the, uh,... It's autumn. It is. It's the first day of autumn. A time of hot-chocolaty mornings and toasty-marshmallow evenings. And best of all.... Ieaping into Ieaves. Oh... [chuckles] Oh, someone's Ieft a honey pot. AII alone and Ionely. [groans] With no one to care for it. I suppose... I should take it. AIthough it might belong to someone. Though, just as easily not. Hmm. Think, think. Think. I believe when a question becomes this sticky, I should ask my very good friend... Christopher Robin. [echoing] Christopher Robin. Are you here? Are you there? Are you... anywhere? [Pooh] Piglet! Piglet! Christopher Robin is gone. Christopher... Chri... Why, Piglet, whatever are you doing... up there? I'm doing just what Christopher Robin said I should do. I'm going to Iook my fear of heights right in the face and conquer it. [creaking] That is, if it doesn't conquer me first. Christopher Robin! Are you Iooking for him, too? [Tigger purrs] Hiya, Pooh! [chuckles] - What's up? - Hello, Tigger. Piglet... is up. Help! Oh, relax, Piglet, old pal. There's no difference between plunging 1 0,000 feet to the jagged rocks below and tumblin' out of bed. Oh, really? Why, sure! [Iaughs] Except for the splat at the end they're practic'Iy similar. Christopher Robin! Hmm. CIutched in the throes of terror, eh? Well, I guess I just better bounce up there and get him down. Stand back, this is gonna take a world's record bounce. What's the matter with you? Being a second-rate bouncer is not what tiggers Iike best. [rumbling] [creaking] [creaking] [strains] [strains] [shrieks] It doesn't matter if you think you're not ripe. This is Rabbit's garden, and Rabbit does his harvesting by the book. As it clearly says in the official almanac, "Today is... [clears throat] the first day of fall following the Iast day of summer." Harvest day. Any questions? [Pooh] Hello. Oh, yes, the rutabaga in the back row, "Hello" what? [rumbling] [shrieks] [Pooh] Hello, Rabbit. Not much of a house. Just right for not much of a donkey. [Rabbit gibbers] [shrieks] Easy come,... easy go. Excuse me, Rabbit,... but would you happen to have a... a, um,... Christopher Robin about you? No! I haven't seen him. - Bother. - [thud] - He isn't where he should be. - [thud] - And wasn't where we were. - [thud] - And seems not to be anywhere... - [thud] ...where he can tell me whose honey this is. [thud] Well, it isn't mine. And I don't have time. It's harvest day! Says so in the book! I have carrots to cut, pumpkins to pick, peas to pluck! Well, of course it's mine. It's got my name scribbled all over it. T-I double g... Honey?! Yuck! P-tooie! BIech! Tiggers do not Iike honey. It isn't mine. Then again, few things are. [grunts and groans] Oh, here! If only I could find Christopher Robin. He could tell me whose it is. Why don't you check the note and find out? A note! Why, Rabbit, how clever of you. I'II just read it. Or would... if I could. Perhaps you can, Rabbit. [harrumphs] I could read this with my eyes closed. [chuckles] It says... [clears throat] [talks nonsense] Well, I could have read it if Tigger hadn't bounced me so. Tar? Jar? Oh, far! "Dear Pooh" it begins. "Worry about me." "I'm going far away." "Help!" And the note is signed "Crelm-flummin Bobbin." [chuckles] Oh, Christopher Robin. Christopher Robin? Gone far away? Oh, what a frightful thought. Wait! Why? When? Who authorized it? Where will we get the strength... to go on without him? [whimpers] [Pooh] Christopher Robin. My very best best friend. It simply cannot be. Whatever will I do? I wonder, Pooh, if... if perhaps u-u-until Christopher Robin gets back... um... I might possibly be your... best best friend. Yeah. [sobs] And when Piglet gets sick of you... [sobs] we can take over. Oh, thank you. But you already are the very best of my best friends. You see, you and I can do anything. But only Christopher Robin and I could do... nothing. Poor guy. His very Iittle brain is half gone with grief. Ah-ha! I've discovered where he went. [Iaughs] An O, another O, and... [gasps] Oh, my. What is it, Owl? Where is it? Somewhere bad, I fear. How bad? On a scale of one to ten... It's not good. [match strikes] [match strikes] He has gone to S-C-H-O-O-L. [gasps] Skull. Skull? What sort of place is that? Well, from the very sound of it, one can tell it's a most forbidding and faraway place. Then we must help Christopher Robin. Help him get back... to here. And us. And me. Then it's a quest, is it? [Iaughs] That's the spirit. Hoo, the nobility of it. A Iong and dangerous journey through the Great Unknown. Of course, you'II need a map. D-d-d-dangerous? Oh, Owl,... you wouldn't suppose we'd meet any, uh... Heffalumps? Oh, thank you, I nearly forgot. Herds of Heffalumps. [mutters] Down here I fancy, in the... southeast corner of the far west portion. W-w-what about W-w-woozles? Woozles! Wonderful! - Jagulars? - Hoo-hoo, just a dozen or three. Here, there and yonder. Not to mention the fabled... [chuckles] Skullasaurus. S-skulla...s-saurus? Oh, come, come, come. Without a monster or two it's hardly a quest. Merely a gaggle of friends wandering about. Hoo-hoo-hoo, how I envy you. Not everyone has the chance to face the unspeakable terrors of the Great Unknown. # Today's the day # In only a matter of moments You'll all be on your way # What lurks around the corner Not a soul can say # But I can guess # More or less # Hidden dangers, great duress # Ah, the moment of glory Is close at hand # Hoo-wee, it's gonna be grand # Adventure is a wonderful thing # Pack only the essentials I'll tell you what to bring # Your strength, your nerve Your hearts, your wits # And for skullasaurus attacks First-aid kits # Adventure is a hoot and a half # You'll face unearthly dangers And look at them and laugh # The claws, the teeth The chase, the thrill # You'll never want to come home Maybe you never will # That's the beauty of adventure It's strictly sink or float # It runs you till you're ragged Then it grabs you by the throat # You'll struggle to survive Although the chances are remote # Hoo-hoo, lucky you Wish I was coming too # Adventure is a wonderful thing I almost forgot the very best part. You not only save your friend from the most dangerous place, namely Skull, but from the most dangerous part of the most dangerous place. The eye of the skull itself. Oh, bother. # And you, General Pooh # Off you go Marching high and low # Your friend waits at the end # Right here # Take a look The map is perfectly clear # With your excellent sense of direction You've nothing to fear # Through the quicksand and the chasms # Tempting fate and fighting spasms # Dodging avalanching boulders # Remember # Christopher Robin's fate Rests completely on your shoulders, Pooh Excuse me. # It's up to you # That's the beauty of adventure # The trembling and the dread # I can't think of another thing I'd rather do instead Perhaps you could join us? # No, no, you go ahead # Hoo-hoo, lucky you Tally-ho and toodle-oo # Ready now? Noble chin Chest out, tummy in # Make a fracas, have a fling # Drop a postcard, give a ring # Get the lead out, time to swing # Whoop-de-doo and ba-da-bing # Adventure # Is a wonderful thing # I salute you. And those of you doomed to never return, I salute you twice. [narrator] And so Pooh and his friends crossed over into... well, that part of the Hundred Acre Wood which Owl called the "Great Unknown. " It was the start of their quest for Christopher Robin. They would find him, Owl said, if they could get through the woods. For the woods, Owl said, were filled with Heffalumps... and Woozles,... and... who knew how much worse? Look! "The Upside Down Rock." "If you've made it this far... you're where... monsters... are." [distant growling] What was that? Sounded too hungry for a Heffalump. [growling continues] Too plump for a Jagular. [growling continues] I'd say it's a... big old... buggy-eyed, saber-toothy skullasaurus. Skullasaurus? - Which way do we run? - Where do we hide? What's the shortest shortcut home? I believe... that way is a good way. [all] Run! [all gibber] AIthough, this way could be better. [Tigger] Give me a break! - If not over here. - [all scream] AIthough... [chuckles] there might be particularly pleasant as well. [all gibber] Stop it! We're getting nowhere fast, Pooh, and that just won't do. A Ieader must be someone Ieaderly, quick-thinking, informed. Someone Iike... - me. - [Iouder growling] Well,... there. Anyone with half a set of smarts can see we Iose the beast by cutting across this Iovely meadow. [squawking] And a Iovely meadow it is. [gasps] Why, Iook. Is that a golden dahlia-daffodilus? Rare for this Iocation. What exactly is this Iocation, Rabbit? And might it be nearer Christopher Robin than farther? Why, we're right here, on course, of course. Where else w-would we be? [squawking] Owl, where are we? "Nice peeceful spot!" Ha! Indeed! [ping] - [ping] - Oh, d-d-dear. This is not the place for a small and frightfully fearful animal... such as myself. Or myself. Or himself. Thanks for noticing. Yes, well, uh, precisely why I chose it. No skullasauruses would dare follow us in here. [chuckles] [distant growling] [screams] Piglet! Come back! I can't Iose you, too. [butterfly squeaks] [Piglet giggles] - [butterfly squeaks] - [Pooh] Oh, my, my. I believe you've made a friend, Piglet. [chuckles] I believe you're right, Pooh. [butterfly squeaks] [whistles] [butterflies squeak] And another, it seems. And also that one. And that one, too,... as well. And he, or her. And her, and him. And they, and them. Face it, Piglet, old pal, you're just plain popular. Some piglets have it,... some donkeys don't. [butterflies squeak] Why, I believe, Piglet, they want to take you home with them. [chuckles] It's very kind of them, I'm sure, but I already have a home. Oh, d-d-dear. Piglet. Don't Ieave. I wouldn't if I couldn't, but I can't. Jump, Piglet. We'II catch you, Iikely as not. I would if I could, but they won't Iet me. Perhaps you can ask your friends to bring you back. Why, yes. But I don't know which way back is. [chuckles] It's down here. Look. I'm afraid I'm too afraid to Iook. Oh, if only Christopher Robin was here. Christopher Robin. Piglet, that's it. He said all I have to do is remember that you are... bigger than a big Ieaf... I mean, uh, bolder when you're not green. [sighs] Or... Is any of this making you feel any Iess afraid, Piglet? I'm afraid not, Pooh. Oh, bother. Hm. How to get a piglet down who is very... up. [butterflies squeak] [Pooh] Oh, bother. E-excuse me, b-but is that you, Pooh? Yes, Piglet, it is. Might we be coming down soon? I believe so, Piglet. Uh, how soon? [Pooh] Very. [mutters] [shrieks] That's throwin' your weight around, Buddy Bear. Imagine, being outnumbered by those buggy boys a zillion to one. What a guy. Brave indeed. Now if you don't mind, Crustopher Ribbon, Ristopher Crobbin, Rustopher Crobbin, is this way. Are you all right, Piglet? Yes, Pooh. Thank you. Saving me was very brave of you. But you're brave, too, Piglet. Braver than... something. I am? Oh, what thing is that? I'm not sure, Piglet. Oh, if only I could remember. [narrator] This way and that way the map led them, to all the places Christopher Robin wasn't. But to none of the places he was. And still Rabbit refused to realize the map didn't know which way it was going. So we first head east by south, then south by east. Of course, minus the magnetic variation, plus the wind drift. We clearly go... this way! I wonder if those rather forbidding Iooking things might be the Forbidden Mountains, where Christopher Robin is. [Piglet] You're right, Pooh. [Tigger] You found 'em, Buddy Bear. Excuse me. The way to there is over here. But, Rabbit, isn't that them, over there? Now, which are you going to believe, this official map or your own eyes? Look for yourself and you'II see we're right on course. It's all right there in black and white. Why would anyone want to wander around wondering which way to go when they have a map to follow? # A map is not a guess An estimation or a hunch # A feeling or a foolish intuition # A map is a dependable, unwavering # Inarguably accurate portrayer # Of your position # Never trust your ears, your nose, your eyes # Putting faith in them is most unwise # Here's a phrase you all must memorize # "In the printed word is where truth lies " Y es, but, Rabbit... # Never trust your tummies, your tails or toes # You can't learn a thing from any of those # Here's another fact I must disclose # From the mighty pen true wisdom flows # If it says so # Then it is so # If it is so, well, so it is # A thought's not fit to think till it's printed in ink # Then it says so So it is Y es, but I think... # Never trust that thing between your ears # Brains will get you nowhere fast My dears # Haven't had a need for mine in years # On the page is where the truth appears # If it says so Then it is so # If it is so So it is # A thought's not fit to think Till it's printed in ink # Never differ from or doubt it - Bother. - # Or go anywhere without it # Thank goodness we've got this # So we don't need to fret about it # If it says so # So it is # [shrieks] Oh, no! The map! Get the map! With only half a map we're... we're Iess than nowhere. After that map! I got it! Don't have it. I had it! I don't have it now. I want it again. I got it! I ain't got it. I don't have it. I got it! Wait, I'II get it... No! I don't... I have it! Hmm. I wonder what's causing this tail to fail. Maybe it just doesn't have what it takes. [creaking] Yikes! Christopher Robin! Tigger, of all the safer places to be... I don't think this is one. - You could fall. - Yeah. Well, you know what they say. What doesn't bounce up has got to fall down. - [Iaughs] - [creaking] Uh... there's no time for this. We've had too many delays. So you just bounce out of there this moment. [Iaughs] No way. The wind isn't right. But there isn't any wind. OK, OK, you've got me. [sobs] The truth is... [whimpers] my tail... just doesn't have... enough strength. [sobs] Oh. [chuckles] Don't worry, Tigger, Christopher Robin said I just have to remember you're... taller than a beam. Really? Or was it "slower than whipped cream?" Do you feel any bouncier now? Nope. Oh... [chuckles] Perhaps your tail just needs a hand. Could you... bounce up this far? Pooh Bear! Ooh. How about now? No, no, no. Thanks for trying. I'm goin' out the way I came in. [sobs] A second-rate bouncer. [creaking] Piglet! [snorts, sobs] Um... Uh, Tigger. Hm? Oh... OK. Look at the biceps on that bear. I don't deserve to dangle from the same precipice. [creaking] [muffled] What's Donkey Boy saying? I said "Ouch." [all scream] [splash] Yike! Now, don't worry, Piglet, it's only me. Oh. Yike! Now, don't worry, Piglet, it's only Tigger and Rabbit and Eeyore. The map! Whoo-hoo, we have it! We can go now! [distant growling] Worry now, Piglet, it's the skullasaurus. I know we went over this way... And I came across... But then I... I Iost my way over... And if I don't... I know... Might you know which way Christopher Robin is from here, Rabbit? Uh, well... Uh, I mean the... There's this way, of course. Not that it's the right way. We obviously want to go this way. Though that way's further than farther and nearer than not. AIthough we can't rule out this way. Now, if Christopher Robin was here, what would he say? Well, he'd say... "That Rabbit can't function in this humidity." "It's not his fault. This fog isn't even on the map." "And that... [sobs] that Rabbit is just not smart enough to know where to go or... what to do." Oh. Christopher Robin says "At a time Iike this... all I have to do is remember..." Remember what? I forget. But it's something Iike... you're smarter when you're pink. Does that help? No. I don't know where we are and where we aren't. And I haven't known for hours. [sighs] I've failed us all. [footsteps] I believe I have as well. Let's face it, without Christopher Robin, we don't have a chance of finding Christopher Robin. Perhaps we might rest in there until this mist is mostly... mistless. [Eeyore] End o

Tagalog

Sa sandaling unang sa huling araw ng isang ginintuang tag-init, nagkaroon ng isang batang lalaki ... at bear. Ang batang lalaki na ating masasalubong sa isang sandali, ay tinawag Christopher Robin. Magsilang ng sanggol ay tinawag Winnie ang puwe. At sama-sama sila'y nagkaroon ng maraming enggrandeng pakikipagsapalaran sa isang kapansin-pansin na lugar na tinatawag na ang Hundred Acre Wood. Ngunit ang grandest at pinaka-hindi pangkaraniwang ng lahat ng kanilang mga pakikipagsapalaran ay pa rin para magsimula. T oday, tingin ko, ay isang magandang araw para sa pagiging puwe.

Last Update: 2017-02-15
Usage Frequency: 1
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Reference: Anonymous
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English

(1) Nearly five hundred years ago the Celestially August, the Son of Heaven, Yong-Lo, of the “Illustrious” or Ming dynasty, commanded the worthy official Kouan-Yu that he should have a bell made of such size that the sound thereof might be heard for one hundred li. And he further ordained that the voice of the bell should be strengthened with brass, and deepened with gold, and sweetened with silver; and that the face and the great lips of it should be graven with blessed sayings from the sacred books, and that it should be suspended in the centre of the imperial capital to sound through all the many-coloured ways of the City of Pe-King. (2) Therefore the worthy mandarin Kouan-Yu assembled the master-moulders and the renowned bellsmiths of the empire, and all men of great repute and cunning in foundry work; and they measured the materials for the alloy, and treated them skilfully, and prepared the moulds, the fires, the instruments, and the monstrous melting-pot for fusing the metal. And they laboured exceedingly, like giants neglecting only rest and sleep and the comforts of life; toiling both night and day in obedience to Kouan-Yu, and striving in all things to do the behest of the Son of Heaven. (3) But when the metal had been cast, and the earthen mould separated from the glowing casting, it was discovered that, despite their great labour and ceaseless care, the result was void of worth; for the metals had rebelled one against the other—the gold had scorned alliance with the brass, the silver would not mingle with the molten iron. Therefore the moulds had to be once more prepared, and the fires rekindled, and the metal remelted, and all the work tediously and toilsomely repeated. The Son of Heaven heard and was angry, but spake nothing. (4) A second time the bell was cast, and the result was even worse. Still the metals obstinately refused to blend one with the other; and there was no uniformity in the bell, and the sides of it were cracked and fissured, and the lips of it were slagged and split asunder; so that all the labour had to be repeated even a third time, to the great dismay of Kouan-Yu. And when the Son of Heaven heard these things, he was angrier than before; and sent his messenger to Kouan-Yu with a letter, written upon lemon-coloured silk and sealed with the seal of the dragon, containing these words: (5) “From the Mighty Young-Lo, the Sublime Tait-Sung, the Celestial and August, whose reign is called ‘Ming,’ to Kouan-Yu the Fuh-yin: Twice thou hast betrayed the trust we have deigned graciously to place in thee; if thou fail a third time in fulfilling our command, thy head shall be severed from thy neck. Tremble, and obey!” (6) Now, Kouan-Yu had a daughter of dazzling loveliness whose name—Ko-Ngai—was ever in the mouths of poets, and whose heart was even more beautiful than her face. Ko-Ngai loved her father with such love that she had refused a hundred worthy suitors rather than make his home desolate by her absence; and when she had seen the awful yellow missive, sealed with the Dragon-Seal, she fainted away with fear for her father’s sake. And when her senses and her strength returned to her, she could not rest or sleep for thinking of her parent’s danger, until she had secretly sold some of her jewels, and with the money so obtained had hastened to an astrologer, and paid him a great price to advise her by what means her father might be saved from the peril impending over him. So the astrologer made observations of the heavens, and marked the aspect of the Silver Stream (which we call the Milky Way), and examined the signs of the Zodiac—the Hwang-tao, or Yellow Road—and consulted the table of the Five Hin, or Principles of the Universe, and the mystical books of the alchemists. And after a long silence, he made answer to her, saying: “Gold and brass will never meet in wedlock, silver and iron never will embrace, until the flesh of a maiden be melted in the crucible; until the blood of a virgin be mixed with the metals in their fusion.” So Ko-Ngai returned home sorrowful at heart; but she kept secret all that she had heard, and told no one what she had done. (7) At last came the awful day when the third and last effort to cast the great bell was to be made; and Ko-Ngai, together with her waiting-woman, accompanied her father to the foundry, and they took their places upon a platform overlooking the toiling of the moulders and the lava of liquefied metal. All the workmen wrought at their tasks in silence; there was no sound heard but the muttering of the fires. And the muttering deepened into a roar like the roar of typhoons approaching, and the blood-red lake of metal slowly brightened like the vermilion of a sunrise, and the vermilion was transmuted into a radiant glow of gold, and the gold whitened blindingly, like the silver face of a full moon. Then the workers ceased to feed the raving flame, and all fixed their eyes upon the eyes of Kouan-Yu; and Kouan-Yu prepared to give the signal to cast. (8) But ere ever he lifted his finger, a cry caused him to turn his head and all heard the voice of Ko-Ngai sounding sharply sweet as a bird’s song above the great thunder of the fires—“For thy sake, O my father!” And even as she cried, she leaped into the white flood of metal; and the lava of the furnace roared to receive her, and spattered monstrous flakes of flame to the roof, and burst over the verge of the earthen crater, and cast up a whirling fountain of many-coloured fires, and subsided quakingly, with lightnings and with thunders and with mutterings. (9) Then the father of Ko-Ngai, wild with his grief, would have leaped in after her, but that strong men held him back and kept firm grasp upon him until he had fainted away, and they could bear him like one dead to his home. And the serving-woman of Ko-Ngai, dizzy and speechless for pain, stood before the furnace, still holding in her hands a shoe, a tiny, dainty shoe, with embroidery of pearls and flowers—the shoe of her beautiful mistress that was. For she had sought to grasp Ko-Ngai by the foot as she leaped, but had only been able to clutch the shoe, and the pretty shoe came off in her hand; and she continued to stare at it like one gone mad. (10) But in spite of all these things, the command of the Celestial and August had to be obeyed, and the work of the moulders to be finished, hopeless as the result might be. Yet the glow of the metal seemed purer and whiter than before; and there was no sign of the beautiful body that had been entombed therein. So the ponderous casting was made; and lo! when the metal had become cool, it was found that the bell was beautiful to look upon and perfect in form, and wonderful in colour above all other bells. Nor was there any trace found of the body of Ko-Ngai; for it had been totally absorbed by the precious alloy, and blended with the well-blended brass and gold, with the intermingling of the silver and the iron. And when they sounded the bell, its tones were found to be deeper and mellower and mightier than the tones of any other bell, reaching even beyond the distance of one hundred li, like a pealing of summer thunder; and yet also like some vast voice uttering a name, a woman’s name, the name of Ko-Ngai. And still, between each mighty stroke there is a long low moaning heard; and ever the moaning ends with a sound of sobbing and of complaining, as though a weeping woman should murmur, “Hiai!” And still, when the people hear that great golden moan they keep silence, but when the sharp, sweet shuddering comes in the air, and the sobbing of “Hiai!” then, indeed, do all the Chinese mothers in all the many-coloured ways of Pe-King whisper to their little ones: “Listen! that is Ko-Ngai crying for her shoe! That is Ko-Ngai calling for her shoe!”

Tagalog

kuwento ng ang kaluluwa ng mahusay na kampanilya

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English

May Day Eve By Nick Joaquin The old people had ordered that the dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was almost midnight before the carriages came filing up the departing guests, while the girls who were staying were promptly herded upstairs to the bedrooms, the young men gathering around to wish them a good night and lamenting their ascent with mock signs and moaning, proclaiming themselves disconsolate but straightway going off to finish the punch and the brandy though they were quite drunk already and simply bursting with wild spirits, merriment, arrogance and audacity, for they were young bucks newly arrived from Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they had waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and swaggered and flirted all night and where in no mood to sleep yet--no, caramba, not on this moist tropic eve! not on this mystic May eve! --with the night still young and so seductive that it was madness not to go out, not to go forth---and serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in the Pasid! cried another; and gather fireflies! cried a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor for coats and capes, for hats and canes, and they were a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage rattled away upon the cobbles while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tile roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wile sky murky with clouds, save where an evil young moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable childhood fragrances or ripe guavas to the young men trooping so uproariously down the street that the girls who were desiring upstairs in the bedrooms catered screaming to the windows, crowded giggling at the windows, but were soon sighing amorously over those young men bawling below; over those wicked young men and their handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the moonlight that the girls were quite ravished with love, and began crying to one another how carefree were men but how awful to be a girl and what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the pigtail and chases them off to bed---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobble and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his great voice booming through the night, "Guardia serno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o. And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said--for it was a night of divination, and night of lovers, and those who cared might peer into a mirror and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobble about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner while the girls climbing into four great poster-beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other and imploring the old woman not to frighten them. "Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to sleep!" "Go scare the boys instead, you old witch!" "She is not a witch, she is a maga. She is a maga. She was born of Christmas Eve!" "St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr." "Huh? Impossible! She has conquered seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?" "No, but I am seven times a martyr because of you girls!" "Let her prophesy, let her prophesy! Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me." "You may learn in a mirror if you are not afraid." "I am not afraid, I will go," cried the young cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed. "Girls, girls---we are making too much noise! My mother will hear and will come and pinch us all. Agueda, lie down! And you Anastasia, I command you to shut your mouth and go away!""Your mother told me to stay here all night, my grand lady!" "And I will not lie down!" cried the rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. "Stay, old woman. Tell me what I have to do." "Tell her! Tell her!" chimed the other girls. The old woman dropped the clothes she had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes on the girl. "You must take a candle," she instructed, "and go into a room that is dark and that has a mirror in it and you must be alone in the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes and shy: Mirror, mirror, show to me him whose woman I will be. If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will appear the face of the man you will marry." A silence. Then: "And hat if all does not go right?" asked Agueda. "Ah, then the Lord have mercy on you!" "Why." "Because you may see--the Devil!" The girls screamed and clutched one another, shivering. "But what nonsense!" cried Agueda. "This is the year 1847. There are no devil anymore!" Nevertheless she had turned pale. "But where could I go, hugh? Yes, I know! Down to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is there now." "No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! You will see the devil!" "I do not care! I am not afraid! I will go!" "Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you mad girl!" "If you do not come to bed, Agueda, I will call my mother." "And if you do I will tell her who came to visit you at the convent last March. Come, old woman---give me that candle. I go." "Oh girls---give me that candle, I go." But Agueda had already slipped outside; was already tiptoeing across the hall; her feet bare and her dark hair falling down her shoulders and streaming in the wind as she fled down the stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in one hand while with the other she pulled up her white gown from her ankles. She paused breathless in the doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, laughter, whirling couples, and the jolly jerky music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a weird cavern for the windows had been closed and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She crossed herself and stepped inside. The mirror hung on the wall before her; a big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into leaves and flowers and mysterious curlicues. She saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small while ghost that the darkness bodied forth---but not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair were so dark that the face approaching in the mirror seemed only a mask that floated forward; a bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown forward by the white cloud of her gown. But when she stood before the mirror she lifted the candle level with her chin and the dead mask bloomed into her living face. She closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. When she had finished such a terror took hold of her that she felt unable to move, unable to open her eyes and thought she would stand there forever, enchanted. But she heard a step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and instantly opened her eyes. "And what did you see, Mama? Oh, what was it?" But Dona Agueda had forgotten the little girl on her lap: she was staring pass the curly head nestling at her breast and seeing herself in the big mirror hanging in the room. It was the same room and the same mirror out the face she now saw in it was an old face---a hard, bitter, vengeful face, framed in graying hair, and so sadly altered, so sadly different from that other face like a white mask, that fresh young face like a pure mask than she had brought before this mirror one wild May Day midnight years and years ago.... "But what was it Mama? Oh please go on! What did you see?" Dona Agueda looked down at her daughter but her face did not soften though her eyes filled with tears. "I saw the devil." she said bitterly. The child blanched. "The devil, Mama? Oh... Oh..." "Yes, my love. I opened my eyes and there in the mirror, smiling at me over my left shoulder, was the face of the devil." "Oh, my poor little Mama! And were you very frightened?" "You can imagine. And that is why good little girls do not look into mirrors except when their mothers tell them. You must stop this naughty habit, darling, of admiring yourself in every mirror you pass- or you may see something frightful some day." "But the devil, Mama---what did he look like?" "Well, let me see... he has curly hair and a scar on his cheek---" "Like the scar of Papa?" "Well, yes. But this of the devil was a scar of sin, while that of your Papa is a scar of honor. Or so he says." "Go on about the devil." "Well, he had mustaches." "Like those of Papa?" "Oh, no. Those of your Papa are dirty and graying and smell horribly of tobacco, while these of the devil were very black and elegant--oh, how elegant!" "And did he speak to you, Mama?" "Yes… Yes, he spoke to me," said Dona Agueda. And bowing her graying head; she wept. "Charms like yours have no need for a candle, fair one," he had said, smiling at her in the mirror and stepping back to give her a low mocking bow. She had whirled around and glared at him and he had burst into laughter. "But I remember you!" he cried. "You are Agueda, whom I left a mere infant and came home to find a tremendous beauty, and I danced a waltz with you but you would not give me the polka." "Let me pass," she muttered fiercely, for he was barring the way. "But I want to dance the polka with you, fair one," he said. So they stood before the mirror; their panting breath the only sound in the dark room; the candle shining between them and flinging their shadows to the wall. And young Badoy Montiya (who had crept home very drunk to pass out quietly in bed) suddenly found himself cold sober and very much awake and ready for anything. His eyes sparkled and the scar on his face gleamed scarlet. "Let me pass!" she cried again, in a voice of fury, but he grasped her by the wrist. "No," he smiled. "Not until we have danced." "Go to the devil!" "What a temper has my serrana!" "I am not your serrana!" "Whose, then? Someone I know? Someone I have offended grievously? Because you treat me, you treat all my friends like your mortal enemies." "And why not?" she demanded, jerking her wrist away and flashing her teeth in his face. "Oh, how I detest you, you pompous young men! You go to Europe and you come back elegant lords and we poor girls are too tame to please you. We have no grace like the Parisiennes, we have no fire like the Sevillians, and we have no salt, no salt, no salt! Aie, how you weary me, how you bore me, you fastidious men!" "Come, come---how do you know about us?" "I was not admiring myself, sir!" "You were admiring the moon perhaps?" "Oh!" she gasped, and burst into tears. The candle dropped from her hand and she covered her face and sobbed piteously. The candle had gone out and they stood in darkness, and young Badoy was conscience-stricken. "Oh, do not cry, little one!" Oh, please forgive me! Please do not cry! But what a brute I am! I was drunk, little one, I was drunk and knew not what I said." He groped and found her hand and touched it to his lips. She shuddered in her white gown. "Let me go," she moaned, and tugged feebly. "No. Say you forgive me first. Say you forgive me, Agueda." But instead she pulled his hand to her mouth and bit it - bit so sharply in the knuckles that he cried with pain and lashed cut with his other hand--lashed out and hit the air, for she was gone, she had fled, and he heard the rustling of her skirts up the stairs as he furiously sucked his bleeding fingers. Cruel thoughts raced through his head: he would go and tell his mother and make her turn the savage girl out of the house--or he would go himself to the girl’s room and drag her out of bed and slap, slap, slap her silly face! But at the same time he was thinking that they were all going to Antipolo in the morning and was already planning how he would maneuver himself into the same boat with her. Oh, he would have his revenge, he would make her pay, that little harlot! She should suffer for this, he thought greedily, licking his bleeding knuckles. But---Judas! He remembered her bare shoulders: gold in her candlelight and delicately furred. He saw the mobile insolence of her neck, and her taut breasts steady in the fluid gown. Son of a Turk, but she was quite enchanting! How could she think she had no fire or grace? And no salt? An arroba she had of it! "... No lack of salt in the chrism At the moment of thy baptism!" He sang aloud in the dark room and suddenly realized that he had fallen madly in love with her. He ached intensely to see her again---at once! ---to touch her hands and her hair; to hear her harsh voice. He ran to the window and flung open the casements and the beauty of the night struck him back like a blow. It was May, it was summer, and he was young---young! ---and deliriously in love. Such a happiness welled up within him that the tears spurted from his eyes. But he did not forgive her--no! He would still make her pay, he would still have his revenge, he thought viciously, and kissed his wounded fingers. But what a night it had been! "I will never forge this night! he thought aloud in an awed voice, standing by the window in the dark room, the tears in his eyes and the wind in his hair and his bleeding knuckles pressed to his mouth. But, alas, the heart forgets; the heart is distracted; and May time passes; summer lends; the storms break over the rot-tipe orchards and the heart grows old; while the hours, the days, the months, and the years pile up and pile up, till the mind becomes too crowded, too confused: dust gathers in it; cobwebs multiply; the walls darken and fall into ruin and decay; the memory perished...and there came a time when Don Badoy Montiya walked home through a May Day midnight without remembering, without even caring to remember; being merely concerned in feeling his way across the street with his cane; his eyes having grown quite dim and his legs uncertain--for he was old; he was over sixty; he was a very stopped and shivered old man with white hair and mustaches coming home from a secret meeting of conspirators; his mind still resounding with the speeches and his patriot heart still exultant as he picked his way up the steps to the front door and inside into the slumbering darkness of the house; wholly unconscious of the May night, till on his way down the hall, chancing to glance into the sala, he shuddered, he stopped, his blood ran cold-- for he had seen a face in the mirror there---a ghostly candlelight face with the eyes closed and the lips moving, a face that he suddenly felt he had been there before though it was a full minutes before the lost memory came flowing, came tiding back, so overflooding the actual moment and so swiftly washing away the piled hours and days and months and years that he was left suddenly young again; he was a gay young buck again, lately came from Europe; he had been dancing all night; he was very drunk; he s stepped in the doorway; he saw a face in the dark; he called out...and the lad standing before the mirror (for it was a lad in a night go jumped with fright and almost dropped his candle, but looking around and seeing the old man, laughed out with relief and came running. "Oh Grandpa, how you frightened me. Don Badoy had turned very pale. "So it was you, you young bandit! And what is all this, hey? What are you doing down here at this hour?" "Nothing, Grandpa. I was only... I am only ..." "Yes, you are the great Señor only and how delighted I am to make your acquaintance, Señor Only! But if I break this cane on your head you maga wish you were someone else, Sir!" "It was just foolishness, Grandpa. They told me I would see my wife." "Wife? What wife?" "Mine. The boys at school said I would see her if I looked in a mirror tonight and said: Mirror, mirror show to me her whose lover I will be. Don Badoy cackled ruefully. He took the boy by the hair, pulled him along into the room, sat down on a chair, and drew the boy between his knees. "Now, put your cane down the floor, son, and let us talk this over. So you want your wife already, hey? You want to see her in advance, hey? But so you know that these are wicked games and that wicked boys who play them are in danger of seeing horrors?" "Well, the boys did warn me I might see a witch instead." "Exactly! A witch so horrible you may die of fright. And she will be witch you, she will torture you, she will eat your heart and drink your blood!" "Oh, come now Grandpa. This is 1890. There are no witches anymore." "Oh-ho, my young Voltaire! And what if I tell you that I myself have seen a witch. "You? Where? "Right in this room land right in that mirror," said the old man, and his playful voice had turned savage. "When, Grandpa?" "Not so long ago. When I was a bit older than you. Oh, I was a vain fellow and though I was feeling very sick that night and merely wanted to lie down somewhere and die I could not pass that doorway of course without stopping to see in the mirror what I looked like when dying. But when I poked my head in what should I see in the mirror but...but..." "The witch?" "Exactly!" "And then she bewitch you, Grandpa!" "She bewitched me and she tortured me. l She ate my heart and drank my blood." said the old man bitterly. "Oh, my poor little Grandpa! Why have you never told me! And she very horrible? "Horrible? God, no--- she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen! Her eyes were somewhat like yours but her hair was like black waters and her golden shoulders were bare. My God, she was enchanting! But I should have known---I should have known even then---the dark and fatal creature she was!" A silence. Then: "What a horrid mirror this is, Grandpa," whispered the boy. "What makes you slay that, hey?" "Well, you saw this witch in it. And Mama once told me that Grandma once told her that Grandma once saw the devil in this mirror. Was it of the scare that Grandma died?" Don Badoy started. For a moment he had forgotten that she was dead, that she had perished---the poor Agueda; that they were at peace at last, the two of them, her tired body at rest; her broken body set free at last from the brutal pranks of the earth---from the trap of a May night; from the snare of summer; from the terrible silver nets of the moon. She had been a mere heap of white hair and bones in the end: a whimpering withered consumptive, lashing out with her cruel tongue; her eye like live coals; her face like ashes... Now, nothing--- nothing save a name on a stone; save a stone in a graveyard---nothing! was left of the young girl who had flamed so vividly in a mirror one wild May Day midnight, long, long ago. And remembering how she had sobbed so piteously; remembering how she had bitten his hand and fled and how he had sung aloud in the dark room and surprised his heart in the instant of falling in love: such a grief tore up his throat and eyes that he felt ashamed before the boy; pushed the boy away; stood up and looked out----looked out upon the medieval shadows of the foul street where a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage was rattling away upon the cobbles, while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tiled roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where an evil old moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable the window; the bowed old man sobbing so bitterly at the window; the tears streaming down his cheeks and the wind in his hair and one hand pressed to his mouth---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles, and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his voice booming through the night: "Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o!" Back to top Back to Philippine Literature in English

Tagalog

Mayo araw gabi

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Synopsis As the foundation of the Mayan civilization begins to crumble, one man's previously idyllic existence is forever changed when he is chosen as a sacrifice needed to appease the gods in director Mel Gibson's mythic, end-times adventure. The Mayan kingdom is at the absolute height of opulence and power, but leaders are convinced that unless more temples are constructed and more human sacrifices made, the crops, and ultimately the people, will suffer. Jaguar Paw (Rudy Youngblood) is a peaceful hunter from a remote forest tribe whose life is about to be changed forever. When Jaguar Paw's village is raided and he is prepared as a sacrifice that the Mayan deities have demanded, the brave young hunter is forced to navigate a horrific new world of fear and oppression. Fearlessly determined to escape his captors and save his family from a harrowing demise, Jaguar Paw prepares to risk it all in one final, desperate attempt to preserve his dying way of life. However, few who have seen the sacrificial alter of the Mayans have managed to live to see another day. Now, in order to rescue his pregnant wife and young son, Jaguar Paw will have to elude the most powerful warriors of the Mayan kingdom while using his vast knowledge of the forest to turn the tables on those who would rather see him dead than set free. Inspired by such ancient Mayan texts as the Popul Vuh, Apocalypto marks a comprehensive collaboration between director Gibson, Cambridge-educated screenwriter Farhad Safinia, and world-renowned archeologist and Mayan culture expert Dr. Richard D. Hansen -- whose services as a special consultant on the film lent the production an unprecedented degree of historical accuracy. ~ Jason Buchanan, Rovi

Tagalog

apocalypto buod tagalog reaksyon

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Siva And The Birth Of The River Ganga There came a sage whose name was Bhagīratha: he stayed in a forest of Himalaya practising terrible austerities. For a thousand years he remained with arms upraised, with four fires burning around, and with the sun blazing upon him. At last Brahma had compassion upon him. The Lord of All came to that sage and told him he could ask a boon as a reward for his austerities. Then the sage said, "The boon I ask is that King Sagara's sixty thousand sons win to Indra's heaven. Their ashes lie far down in the earth. And until a water which is not the water of earth flows over the ashes and purifies them they cannot win to heaven." The Lord of All was pleased with what the sage asked, and the boon was granted. And so Brahma promised that Gangā would descend upon earth. Now Gangā was the daughter of Himalaya, the Lord of Snow, and she had held herself back from leaving the heaven-world. She would leave at Brahma's command, but her downward rush would be so terrible that the earth would be dashed to pieces by it. Only one thing could save the earth from that tremendous stroke: if the head of Shiva received her stream the fall of Gangā upon earth would be broken. For a year the sage worshipped Shiva. Then he was taken into Shiva's heaven and he saw the God with his four faces. Once Brahma had created a nymph out of all that is loveliest in the world, and he had sent her to Shiva so that her beauty might distract him from his eternal meditation. As she walked around where he stayed a face appeared at each side of the God: the faces looking east and west and north are beautiful and pleasant to behold, but the face looking south is terrible. With the face looking east Shiva rules the world; with the face looking west he delights all beings; with the face looking north he rejoices in the company of his wife Umā. But the face looking south is his face of destruction. Shiva, moved by the prayers of the great ascetic, agreed to take the fall of Gangā upon his head. He went forth with his trident, and standing upon a high peak he bade the daughter of Himalaya descend upon the world. She was made angry by his imperious call. "I shall descend, and I will sweep Shiva away," she said. And so, in a mighty fall, Gangā came down from the heaven-world. But Shiva, knowing what Gangā would have done, smiled to himself. He would shame her for her arrogance. He made her streams wander through the locks and clusters of his hair. For seasons and seasons Ganga wandered through them as through the forests of Himalaya, and she was made ashamed by her powerlessness to reach the earth. Then the sage, not seeing the river come down, prayed to Shiva once more, and once more went through awful austerities. Shiva, for the sake of Bhagīratha, allowed Gangā to make her way through the locks and clusters of his hair and come down upon the earth. In seven streams she descended. The Gods came in their golden chariots to watch that descent upon earth, and the flashing of their chariots made it seem as if a thousand suns were in the sky. Fish of all kind and colours, dolphins of every shape and hue, flashed in the river. And sages and saints came and purified themselves in the water, for the stream that had wandered upon Shiva's head made even the wicked pure. The Gladdener, the Purifier, the Lotus-clad, the Faireyed, were the names that were given to four of her seven streams. Three flowed to the east, three flowed to the west. The middle stream, the fullest, the clearest, flowed to where Bhagīratha waited in his chariot. He drove on, and where he drove, there did the bright, full, clear river flow. On and on it flowed, following the chariot of the sage: now it was a sweeping current, and now it went on as though it was hardly able to bear on its wave the feather of the swan, and now full and calmly it flowed along. At last it came to the wide sea. There it sank down, and as it sank into the middle of the world the sage prayed that it would purify the ashes of King Sagara's sixty thousand sons. In an age before, King Sagara and his sixty thousand sons had been on the earth. The king would have himself proclaimed a world-ruler, and that this might be done a steed was loosed and set to range the distances. All the land the steed ranged over would be proclaimed the king's domain, and when the steed returned it would be sacrificed to the Gods. But Sagara's steed was stolen and led down into the very middle of the earth. The king commanded his sixty thousand sons to find the steed and bring it back for the sacrifice. They made their way down to the very middle of the earth. They went beyond where the Elephant of the East, the Elephant of the West, the Elephant of the South, and the great white Elephant of the North stand, bearing up the earth. These immortal ones they worshipped, and they passed on. At last they came to where Kapila, at the very centre of all things, sustains the world. There the steed was grazing. King Sagara's sixty thousand sons went to seize it, and as they did they attacked Kapila with trees and boulders, crying out that he was the robber of their father's steed. As they came near he turned a flame upon them, and the sixty thousand sank down in heaps of ashes. Kapila went on with his meditation and thought no more upon the destruction he had brought upon King Sagara's sons. The king then sent his princely grandson to find die steed. He came down to the very middle of the earth. He passed the immortal elephants; he found the steed grazing near Kapila and he saw the heaps of ashes that were there. Then the bird Garuda that was flying there told him of what had befallen the sons of King Sagara, and told him, too, that they could win to Indra's heaven only when Gangā was brought down and made flow over their ashes. The prince led the steed back to Sagara. He became king after his grandfather, and when his duties as king had been fulfilled he went into a forest of Himālaya and engaged in sacrifices to bring Gangā down from the heaven-world. After him his son engaged in sacrifices. Then his son's son, the sage Bhagīratha, engaged in austerities that had never before been known, and these austerities won Brahmā's compassion, and so, with the mighty aid of Shiva, Gangā was brought down upon the earth. There where Kapila ponders, sustaining the world, Ganga flowed. The river went over the heaps of ashes that were the sons of King Sagara. They were purified, and the sixty thousand, rejoicing, went into the heaven of great Indra.

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English

While still in the grade school, his mother used to tell him to be a priest, to dignify and ameliorate their state of life; but the father would vehemently counter, no, he should be a lawyer. As always during the eve of the fiesta, Celedonio G. Aguilar earnestly desire to watch the parade with deep interest and enthusiasm especially when the platoon of soldiers march by and roiled in his mind the well-mannered discipline and dignity of mien of the soldiers, that someday, he thought and figured himself to be one of them. So when he enrolled at the Albay High School, after his academic classes, posthaste he would scurry out to his custodial concern, joined the formation of the preparatory military training activities. Through the years he rose from the ranks to become battalion commander. It was October, during his senior year in school that he hide down to the military camp to take the Philippine Military Academy Examination, but the Japanese Imperial forces landed at legazpi on December 14, 1941 thus throwing his ambition to be a soldier to the winds. However during the Japanese occupation, he joined the guerilla movement (NOMETA) Noli Me Tangere Guerilla as 2nd Lieutenant. He was enraptured with much interest when the American Force landed at legazpi on april 1, 1945. And NOMETA unit became 1st. Battalion of Sandico’s 52nd Division Guerilla Unit was re – entrenched to a company and merge to first Regiment Bicol Brigade that include him in the activated regular force of the Philippine Army as First class Private. Utterly disgusted he resigned from the army and applied to teach in the District of camalig as a substitute teacher. After a year of teaching, he became a temporary teacher and was appointed head teacher at Del Rosario Public School. Three years after classroom work, he resigned to pursue a degree in education and Graduated in 1951 at the National University, Manila. He first taught at Libon Private High School, after a year, transferred to St. John’s Academy in Camalig where his former student, Mrs. Minda Grageda Muñoz in their St. John’s Academy Golden Anniversary Souvenir booklet, In Retrospect elucidated; “Mr. Aguilar is a tall respectable man, eloquent and dedicated English instructor. We were all eyes and ears for him when he’s in front of the class, listening intently and spellbound to his interesting lecture. He was forthright and his dignified stature demanded respect.” In the same booklet, Reminiscing Our High School days with our Mentors, Mrs. Josefina Nuas Ramos averred, “Mr. Aguilar was our English teacher. He spoke English fluently. He developed our interest in reading literature and novels. He is a writer. Some of his books are: Shaken Shadows, Time and Sunken Sun, This Season and Night, Pink Sun and Neutral Dust, Readings in Philippine Literature, Speaking and Writing English, Critiques on Poetry, Understanding Poetry through imagery, Thesis Writing Made Easy, Functional Research Techniques, Dimensions in Reading, and Before the Tide Sets In.” Then the Civil Sevice Commission, in a letter, ordered him to report to Marcial O. Rañola Memorial School to teach English, non – compliance will be tantamount to scrapping out his civil service eligibility. Banners in The Quill, student publication of Marcial O. Rañola Memorial School, that new teacher added to MORMS Teaching Force,”one of them was MR. Aguilar of Camalig, Albay who had his first feel of teaching in 1945 when he accepted a teaching position in a barrio elementary school in the District of Camalig. But three years teaching in the elementary, resigned to enroll at National University, where in 1951 obtained his Bachelor of Science degree in Educational major in English and minor in history. He taught for five years at St. John’s Academy. During summer enrolled at U.P. for masteral degree.” He enjoyed immensely his secondary teaching adventure. Especially his literature teaching which spurred in him for more writing for publication in the national magazines: This Week Magazine, Free Press, Sunday Times Magazine, Graphic, Solidarity, etc. Through the suggestion of Bienvenido N. Santos, he organized Albay Writers with membership officials as: Dr. Rodrigo Salazar, Valdemar Olaguer, Jose Ravalo, Vic O. Ballesfin, and 15 other budding writers of Albay with Celedonio G. Aguilar as President and Bienvinido Santos as Adviser. At one instance, through Santos, N.V.M. Gonzales was guest speaker of the group along with Hilario Francia and Petronilo Daroy. To cap it all, he was elected President of the Albay Secondary Teachers Association which perhaps paved the way for his selection for the Master of Art in Teaching Reading Scholarship at the University of the Philippines. In the Class 76 reunion at MORMS of which Dr. Susan Princesa Mallonga was the President presented to him a certificate, which states: “Class 76”presents this certificate of Appreciation to Mr. Celedonio G. Aguilar for his demonstrated patience, hard work and dedication in molding our young minds in the pursuit of our secondary education, most of all, giving us the foundation in academic excellence, and teaching us values of honesty, diligence, sincerity and humility,” After enjoying the DECS scholarships, he was promoted to Junior College Instructor and assigned to School for Philippine a Craftsmen, Polangui, Albay. In The Craftlet official student publication of School for Philippine Craftsmen, in Campus Tidbits by June Ailes where she spot lighted and enunciated campus personalities, she articulated on Mr. Aguilar as “our beloved English instructor and his being very energetic to drill us in writing as if he was ink in his veins, for he has several collection of poetry which he considers his vice: together with his scholarships at U.P. and Silliman University. Indeed how lucky we are to be our instructor.” On School visitation of the Regional Director at SPC observing teachers, he spotted Mr. Aguilar for promotion to Regional General Education Supervisor, at which instance, he devoted his time after office hours to teaching at Bicol College and then to Divine Word College of Legazpi. Then retired from the government service. Outrightly, Bicol College took him to be Dean of the College of Education with only secondary teaching as the course offered. So he formalized the opening of the elementary grades in preparation for the opening of Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education (BSEed). At point and time, Mr. Manuel T. Javier, Bicol College Faculty and Adviser of Bicol Collegian, Student Publication of the School, wrote a feature which said: If the Colossus of Rhodes has been one wonders of the world in the days of antiquity, it has its equal in our present time at our school at that. We are referring to Dr. Celedonio G. Aguilar as the mighty colossus. Aside from being Dean of the College of Education, he is also Secretary of the Graduate School, twin positions enough to stymie the most intrepid of men, but not this titan. He savors these burdens with gusto. His student is the living witness to his pedagogical virtuosity. They would swear to high heaven how this man could change adrab classroom into exciting arena of intellectual combat where educational myths and heresies are blasted and intellectual pursuits are probed and defend.” Eventually a year after, he became the Dean of the Graduated School. As Dean of the Graduate School, he worked for the opening of the doctoral program subsequently a year later, through the help of his friend in the Higher Education Division, Manila, its recognition, a help exerted to boost Bicol College’s headway to educational permanence. But resigned later on when University of Santo Thomas called him for interview in connection to his application to teach at that school. But Fr. Reyes, President of Divine Word College of Legazpi and was to be promoted to higher position in Manila, sweet talked him to teach rather the King Seminary in Quezon City, which he accepted. He only taught half – day at the Seminary which gave him ample time for research, and call to mind, the dearth of specific books for the subject he taught in college, such as Philippine Literature, so Readings in Philippines Literature was written, Grammar and Composition, for Speaking and writing English, literary Criticism, for Critiques on Poetry, Poetry and Drama, for Understanding Poetry through Imagery, and for Graduate Students, Thesis Writing Made Easy, and Functional Research Techniques, for teacher and would be teacher, Dimension in Reading and Before the Tide Sets In. He also included in foreign and local anthologies: World Poetry by Kim Young Sam (Korea), East – West Voices by Dr. V.S. Skanda Prasad, (Mangalore, India), Edicao Commemorativo by Wilson Oliviera Jasa, (Sao Paulo, Brazil), and National Library of Poetry: Walk Through Paradise 1995, Portraits of Life 1996, Owing Mills, Maryland, USA, Bicol Voice Anthology by Merito B. Espinas, Bicol of the Philippines by Lilia Realubit, Ani by Cultural Center of the Philippines, Palihan by U.P. Creative Writing Center. On the outset of June, a letter from Mayor’s Office, requested all occupational pursuits an Camalig to submit their Bio – Data emphasizing their significant accomplishments in their chosen job career, such as: Civic Action Movement, business enterprises, inventions, constructions, mentors to take from classroom teacher, principals, (district, division, regional) supervisors, college professors, and Deans of schools who are legitimate Camaligueños. In view of his teaching feat, scholarship, written books that benefited college and graduates students throughout the country and his Doctor of Education degree from Bicol University, prompted the award as outstanding Camaligueños in the field of EDUCATION (along with other professional pursuits) June 24, 2005 camalig’s town fiesta by the Camalig Council on Arts, Culture and Tourism to Dr. Celedonio G. Aguilar. Apathetically he muttered, if only there is a school who would avail of his expertise on the subjects corresponding to his written books, he is still willing to teach, for teaching to him is a life time endeavor, not anymore for remuneration, with life and Comfort, but to deciminate and share the knowledge he has learned from his scholarships by the DECS in Master of Arts in Teaching Reading at U.P. Diliman, QC, Master of fine Art in Creative Writing a Silliman University under the Tiempos (Edilberto and Edith) and William Sweet, Master of Arts in Educational Management.

Tagalog

kombertidorWhile still in the grade school, his mother used to tell him to be a priest, to dignify and ameliorate their state of life; but the father would vehemently counter, no, he should be a lawyer. As always during the eve of the fiesta, Celedonio G. Aguilar earnestly desire to watch the parade with deep interest and enthusiasm especially when the platoon of soldiers march by and roiled in his mind the well-mannered discipline and dignity of mien of the soldiers, that someday, he thought and figured himself to be one of them. So when he enrolled at the Albay High School, after his academic classes, posthaste he would scurry out to his custodial concern, joined the formation of the preparatory military training activities. Through the years he rose from the ranks to become battalion commander. It was October, during his senior year in school that he hide down to the military camp to take the Philippine Military Academy Examination, but the Japanese Imperial forces landed at legazpi on December 14, 1941 thus throwing his ambition to be a soldier to the winds. However during the Japanese occupation, he joined the guerilla movement (NOMETA) Noli Me Tangere Guerilla as 2nd Lieutenant. He was enraptured with much interest when the American Force landed at legazpi on april 1, 1945. And NOMETA unit became 1st. Battalion of Sandico’s 52nd Division Guerilla Unit was re – entrenched to a company and merge to first Regiment Bicol Brigade that include him in the activated regular force of the Philippine Army as First class Private. Utterly disgusted he resigned from the army and applied to teach in the District of camalig as a substitute teacher. After a year of teaching, he became a temporary teacher and was appointed head teacher at Del Rosario Public School. Three years after classroom work, he resigned to pursue a degree in education and Graduated in 1951 at the National University, Manila. He first taught at Libon Private High School, after a year, transferred to St. John’s Academy in Camalig where his former student, Mrs. Minda Grageda Muñoz in their St. John’s Academy Golden Anniversary Souvenir booklet, In Retrospect elucidated; “Mr. Aguilar is a tall respectable man, eloquent and dedicated English instructor. We were all eyes and ears for him when he’s in front of the class, listening intently and spellbound to his interesting lecture. He was forthright and his dignified stature demanded respect.” In the same booklet, Reminiscing Our High School days with our Mentors, Mrs. Josefina Nuas Ramos averred, “Mr. Aguilar was our English teacher. He spoke English fluently. He developed our interest in reading literature and novels. He is a writer. Some of his books are: Shaken Shadows, Time and Sunken Sun, This Season and Night, Pink Sun and Neutral Dust, Readings in Philippine Literature, Speaking and Writing English, Critiques on Poetry, Understanding Poetry through imagery, Thesis Writing Made Easy, Functional Research Techniques, Dimensions in Reading, and Before the Tide Sets In.” Then the Civil Sevice Commission, in a letter, ordered him to report to Marcial O. Rañola Memorial School to teach English, non – compliance will be tantamount to scrapping out his civil service eligibility. Banners in The Quill, student publication of Marcial O. Rañola Memorial School, that new teacher added to MORMS Teaching Force,”one of them was MR. Aguilar of Camalig, Albay who had his first feel of teaching in 1945 when he accepted a teaching position in a barrio elementary school in the District of Camalig. But three years teaching in the elementary, resigned to enroll at National University, where in 1951 obtained his Bachelor of Science degree in Educational major in English and minor in history. He taught for five years at St. John’s Academy. During summer enrolled at U.P. for masteral degree.” He enjoyed immensely his secondary teaching adventure. Especially his literature teaching which spurred in him for more writing for publication in the national magazines: This Week Magazine, Free Press, Sunday Times Magazine, Graphic, Solidarity, etc. Through the suggestion of Bienvenido N. Santos, he organized Albay Writers with membership officials as: Dr. Rodrigo Salazar, Valdemar Olaguer, Jose Ravalo, Vic O. Ballesfin, and 15 other budding writers of Albay with Celedonio G. Aguilar as President and Bienvinido Santos as Adviser. At one instance, through Santos, N.V.M. Gonzales was guest speaker of the group along with Hilario Francia and Petronilo Daroy. To cap it all, he was elected President of the Albay Secondary Teachers Association which perhaps paved the way for his selection for the Master of Art in Teaching Reading Scholarship at the University of the Philippines. In the Class 76 reunion at MORMS of which Dr. Susan Princesa Mallonga was the President presented to him a certificate, which states: “Class 76”presents this certificate of Appreciation to Mr. Celedonio G. Aguilar for his demonstrated patience, hard work and dedication in molding our young minds in the pursuit of our secondary education, most of all, giving us the foundation in academic excellence, and teaching us values of honesty, diligence, sincerity and humility,” After enjoying the DECS scholarships, he was promoted to Junior College Instructor and assigned to School for Philippine a Craftsmen, Polangui, Albay. In The Craftlet official student publication of School for Philippine Craftsmen, in Campus Tidbits by June Ailes where she spot lighted and enunciated campus personalities, she articulated on Mr. Aguilar as “our beloved English instructor and his being very energetic to drill us in writing as if he was ink in his veins, for he has several collection of poetry which he considers his vice: together with his scholarships at U.P. and Silliman University. Indeed how lucky we are to be our instructor.” On School visitation of the Regional Director at SPC observing teachers, he spotted Mr. Aguilar for promotion to Regional General Education Supervisor, at which instance, he devoted his time after office hours to teaching at Bicol College and then to Divine Word College of Legazpi. Then retired from the government service. Outrightly, Bicol College took him to be Dean of the College of Education with only secondary teaching as the course offered. So he formalized the opening of the elementary grades in preparation for the opening of Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education (BSEed). At point and time, Mr. Manuel T. Javier, Bicol College Faculty and Adviser of Bicol Collegian, Student Publication of the School, wrote a feature which said: If the Colossus of Rhodes has been one wonders of the world in the days of antiquity, it has its equal in our present time at our school at that. We are referring to Dr. Celedonio G. Aguilar as the mighty colossus. Aside from being Dean of the College of Education, he is also Secretary of the Graduate School, twin positions enough to stymie the most intrepid of men, but not this titan. He savors these burdens with gusto. His student is the living witness to his pedagogical virtuosity. They would swear to high heaven how this man could change adrab classroom into exciting arena of intellectual combat where educational myths and heresies are blasted and intellectual pursuits are probed and defend.” Eventually a year after, he became the Dean of the Graduated School. As Dean of the Graduate School, he worked for the opening of the doctoral program subsequently a year later, through the help of his friend in the Higher Education Division, Manila, its recognition, a help exerted to boost Bicol College’s headway to educational permanence. But resigned later on when University of Santo Thomas called him for interview in connection to his application to teach at that school. But Fr. Reyes, President of Divine Word College of Legazpi and was to be promoted to higher position in Manila, sweet talked him to teach rather the King Seminary in Quezon City, which he accepted. He only taught half – day at the Seminary which gave him ample time for research, and call to mind, the dearth of specific books for the subject he taught in college, such as Philippine Literature, so Readings in Philippines Literature was written, Grammar and Composition, for Speaking and writing English, literary Criticism, for Critiques on Poetry, Poetry and Drama, for Understanding Poetry through Imagery, and for Graduate Students, Thesis Writing Made Easy, and Functional Research Techniques, for teacher and would be teacher, Dimension in Reading and Before the Tide Sets In. He also included in foreign and local anthologies: World Poetry by Kim Young Sam (Korea), East – West Voices by Dr. V.S. Skanda Prasad, (Mangalore, India), Edicao Commemorativo by Wilson Oliviera Jasa, (Sao Paulo, Brazil), and National Library of Poetry: Walk Through Paradise 1995, Portraits of Life 1996, Owing Mills, Maryland, USA, Bicol Voice Anthology by Merito B. Espinas, Bicol of the Philippines by Lilia Realubit, Ani by Cultural Center of the Philippines, Palihan by U.P. Creative Writing Center. On the outset of June, a letter from Mayor’s Office, requested all occupational pursuits an Camalig to submit their Bio – Data emphasizing their significant accomplishments in their chosen job career, such as: Civic Action Movement, business enterprises, inventions, constructions, mentors to take from classroom teacher, principals, (district, division, regional) supervisors, college professors, and Deans of schools who are legitimate Camaligueños. In view of his teaching feat, scholarship, written books that benefited college and graduates students throughout the country and his Doctor of Education degree from Bicol University, prompted the award as outstanding Camaligueños in the field of EDUCATION (along with other professional pursuits) June 24, 2005 camalig’s town fiesta by the Camalig Council on Arts, Culture and Tourism to Dr. Celedonio G. Aguilar. Apathetically he muttered, if only there is a school who would avail of his expertise on the subjects corresponding to his written books, he is still willing to teach, for teaching to him is a life time endeavor, not anymore for remuneration, with life and Comfort, but to deciminate and share the knowledge he has learned from his scholarships by the DECS in Master of Arts in Teaching Reading at U.P. Diliman, QC, Master of fine Art in Creative Writing a Silliman University under the Tiempos (Edilberto and Edith) and William Sweet, Master of Arts in Educational Management.

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