Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Coffee Jam

As chronicled by Glenn Ala at 8:48 AM


Tirik ang araw
Pero malamig ang hangin
Samahan mo 'ko
Tara nang mag-jamming

Titimplahan ng masayang awitin
Kasabay ng kapeng pagsasaluhan natin

Sa tuwing magkakasama
Ganito kami kasaya (ganito kasaya)
Ganito kami mag-bonding
Ice cold coffee (ice cold coffee) jamming

Oooh aaah
Oooh yeah
Oooh aaah
Coffee jamming (coffee jamming) na!

Ihanda na ang lyrics
Lagyan ng matamis na music
Add an ooh and an aah
Ready na ang kanta

Langhapin ang aroma ng samahang masaya
Lasapin ang sarap ng pagsasamang tapat

Sa tuwing magkakasama
Ganito kami kasaya (ganito kasaya)
Ganito kami mag-bonding
Ice cold coffee (ice cold coffee) jamming

Oooh aaah
Oooh yeah
Oooh aaah
Coffee jamming (coffee jamming) na!

- written January 30th, words and music by Kokum

(Photo taken by Paige and stolen from Piper's photobucket.)
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2 comments:

  1. TripleRRRFebruary 15, 2008 at 12:16 PM

    i think i took this picture habang nangangarag tumakbo papunta regency...

    gahd i miss bora! isang tulog na lang hehe, actually di na ko makakatulog dahil for sure very late matatapos ang mtngs namin dahil as in nafe-feel ko past 2am, and i have to rush na for my early flight...ayy inggit ako sa 2 boys ko!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Glenn AlaFebruary 15, 2008 at 12:37 PM

    well, at least you will still go... you WILL make it on time to the airport, will you? i hope so.

    thanks for the picture. due acknowledgment now posted on the entry :-)

    ReplyDelete

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The Chronicler's Creed

Where there's water and sun, where there are friends to see or new people to meet, where there's something new to learn, experience, or do, where there's life, there I will be.

LA POESÍA

Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía
a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde
salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces, no eran
palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche,
de pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos
o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro
y me tocaba.

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I do not know, I do not know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I do not know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

- An excerpt from LA POESÍA (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda