Korina, Ilokano Lexicography

BALIKAS ITA NGA ALDAW. (375) -- KORINA 

korina 1. png ngawngaw a panagtaltalawataw maipapan iti nakaro a didigra iti wagas nga adayo iti justo a pasamak 2. png maysa a patutsada iti maysa a publiko a pakaammo a mangibagbaga a nakurang ti ayuda ti gobierno kadagiti naviktima iti kalamidad, ken iti adu a paset ti didigra ket awan presensia dagiti nadutokan nga ahensia ti gobierno 3. png awanan pagibasaran a panangbarusngi iti publiko nga ammo ken informasion maipapan iti kinakaro ti didigra babaen ti panangisingasing a ti ammo ti kaaduan ket saan nga umisu 4. prt agkorina, kumorina, korinaen, mangkorina 5. png kinakorina 6. kej 'Saan a kinukorina dagiti kakastoy a pasamak iti Makindaya a Visayas: ti estoria mismo dagiti nadidigra ti umdas a pammaneknek iti kinakaro ti kalamidad.' wenno 'Saan a masolvar dagiti panagbisin dagiti nadidigra a tattao babaen ti nainkorinaan a pakaammo ket panaglawatlawat. Ketdi, masapul ti nainturedan a panangakseptar iti kinaawan kabaelan ti gobierno a mangsango iti obligasionna.' 

Sors: A Solver Agcaoili, Monolinggual a Diksionario ken Tesoro nga Ilokano.

Yolanda, Ilokano Lexicography

BALIKAS ITA NGA ALDAW. (374) -- YOLANDA

yolanda 1. png maysa a klase ti russuak-danum a mangted iti nakaro a kalamidad a nangrakrak iti nalawa a paset ti maysa a lugar 2. png maysa a klase ti russuak-bagio a mangibunga iti adu a pannakatay, iti pannakarakrak kadagiti komunidad, ken iti pannakaperdi dagiti pagbirokan dagiti tao; kasta met nga impakita daytoy ti nabuntog a panagresponde dagiti ahensia ti gobierno a nangpakaro iti nakaam-ames a kasasaad dagiti nadidigra 3. prt agyolanda, mayolanda, yolandaen 4. png pannakaiyolanda, panangiyolanda 5. sin didigrat' russuak-bagiw, kalamidad a nakaro 6. kej ‘Saantayo nga ipalubos ti pannakaiyolandatayo manen ken manen. Masapul a malabanantayo dagiti kakastoy a kita ti yolanda.’ 7. etim, png-t, Yolanda, wenno Haiyan, a nangted russuak-bagiw iti Makindaya a Visayas idi Noviembre 2013

Sors: A Solver Agcaoili, Monolinggual a Diksionario ken Tesoro nga Ilokano
1

NAMINTAKEL. ILOKANO LEXICOGRAPHY.

namintakel 1. pld mainaig iti kaadu ti nasagrap a gasat 2. pld mainaig iti panagpupunipon ti nasayaat a gasat iti maysa a tao 3. pld maipapan iti panaglaplapusanan iti naaliwaksay a kabibiag ti maysa a tao 4. png kinanamintakel 5. prt agnamintakel 6. sin sobra a kinagasat 7. spp blessed (with good luck, Ing), filled with good fortune (Ing) 8. kej ‘Agnamintakel daytoy a tao: nasayaat amin a nagbambanagan dagiti annakna, sa maysa nasayaat met ti ubrada ken baketna. Ania pay ngarud ti birokem no ti biagmo ket namintakel?’

REMINISCENCIAS/REMINISCENCES/LAGLAGIP

REMINISCENCIAS/REMINISCENCES/LAGLAGIP

[While at a library's corner among books, the corner looking out the Pearl Harbor, and remembering the dead of Eastern Visayas. Ha, I cannot write! The muse of poetry, please come, come, come!]

Estos reminiscencias de los estantes
son un fuego de amor.
Aqui, a las tres de la tarde, 
el buque de guerra
su declara una rendicion. 
No hay vencedor
por el puerto,
que ondula silencio.
Escribo sobre una nacion
que no puedo contar
a sus muertos.
Lo large de los aƱos,
las furiosas aguas olvidaran.

--
Dagitoy a lagip dagiti estante
ket apuy ni ayat.
Ditoy, iti alas tres iti malem,
sumuko ti barko a pakidangadang.
Awan nagballigi
iti puerto nga agsarsaraisi
iti kaulimekan.
Sursuratek ti maipapan
iti pagilian a dina
mabilang dagiti minatayna.
Iti di agbayag, makalipatton
ti narungsot a danum.

--
These reminiscences of shelves
are a fire of love.
Here, at three o'clock,
the warship declares a surrender.
There is no victor
by the harbor
that ripples in silence.
I write about a nation
that cannot count its dead.
Over the years, the raging
waters will forget.

Hon, HI/
Nov 26, 2013

Solo conmigo mismo. Alone with myself. -- Daniw.

SOLO CONMIGO MISMO

Hoy estoy solo conmigo mismo.

El futuro es el pasado
en este rincon de una hora. 
Usted esta alli. 
Usted es ausencia. 
Cantas.
Vienes solo limpiando la sombra
de su pie mi puerta.

ALONE WITH MYSELF

Today I am alone with myself.

The future is past in this corner
of an hour.
You are there.
You are absence.
You are singing.
You come alone
wiping the shadow of your feet
at my doorstep.

*UH Leeward/Nov 26, 2013

Counting the Living

Stop counting the dead, look first at the living. We have stomachs, we starve, many of us are wounded. We need support, help. We are Filipino. Isn't it that you love us? If you love us, help us. Don't let them down. -- Rose Lynn Logarte 



We got nothing but this nothingness. 

We have come from the raging waters, sprung
back to life from some crazed wind, wild and carefree

we thought it is the end of our days. It was. 
It was not the sort that came in the beginning
of the Paschal season, or the breeze of Advent when

Christmas carols begin to fill our sleepy mornings

with some hope for another afternoon of rest
or an evening of sweet sleep after watching 

those sad operas that make us remember
the meaning of dirge. We have bodies still,
warm and undead, and here, on this earth, we need

the spirit of bread, we need the soul of rice, 

we need the weight of water, all these
we need again to live and love and lament.  

This is what we have been saying
all along, we the living, or we who have come
back to tell the stories you do not know.

About hunger. 

About fear. About what it is
to meet death, cheat it, and cheat it so

so we can cry again, tell you once more
that all this is not worth it. It is dying to live again
but this time around, the reason is not there. 

Fifty people came into my home

to surrender to the order of fate
and we let the already fierce air grew fiercer

destroying everything on its path
taking off our skin like the barks of trees
collecting all our names and letting them loose.

And now, those who came as pilgrims
are on the streets. The city does not dole out food. 
The wretchedness does, giving us the right

to extend our hands to every passerby. 

In the beginning it was hard, 
a most abominable act. 

But now we have become dogs,
sniffing for meat and blood, and when we see you smile
or trace guilty conscience on your face

we extend our hands to all of you passing by. 

Because they count the dead. 
Because all they care is to prove the president correct

By saying that those who died did so in their sleep. 
That they did not die because he is the president. 
That they died because the vice president

Sells his soul to the highest bidder, 

his name on each grain, in the steam of boiled rice.  
He is shameless, and I am hungry. 

Are they going to give out slippers 
with their names on each pair,
congratulating us for not dying? 

Hon, HI/
Nov 19, 2013


TI ATIDDOG NGA IMA TI RABII, DAYTOY

Ti Atiddog nga Ima ti Rabii, Daytoy

[Para iti kabsat a nakalasat iti rungsot ti russuak-bagiw ti Yolanda idiay Merida, Leyte ngem napukawna ti 20 kadagiti kameng ti familiana. Ditoy nga agbalikas, ken istoriaek manen ti istoriana iti panagladingit. Agleddaangka, kabsat, ken agbiagka.] 

Iti Merida, atiddog 
Nga ima ti rabii daytoy. 

Nasapa a dimteng 
Ti diding a danum, 

Dagiti imana ket magaw-atnat' 
Sipi ti buteng iti puso, ket iti maysa a litak

Duapuloda, ti familiak, 
Ti inkuyog ti dangkok ti alinuno,

A ti panagikkisda nga agpatulong 
Ket linamut ti rungsot ti baybay. 


Kasano a bilangem lua para iti lagip
Lua para iti pimmusay, sa ti pammakada

Agnanayon a maungaw, 
Din makita pay, din maiyebkas pay

A ti katawa ken awanen 
Iti arsadanan ti bantay? 

Estoriaento manen ni Inang 
No kasano dayta a nagulib a rabii,

Ket lagipennanto a madagdagullit 
No kasano a binalkot dagiti annakna 

Iti buteng-Yolanda, daytoy didigra 
A mammadso a dida ammo. 

Nakataraykami koma a nakalibas 
Nakapagkamang iti tapaw,

Ngem maysa a barangabang 
Ti nasipnget a rabii, kasipngetan 

A dimi met ammo, mangibagbaga 
A dikam pumampanaw, nga agtalinaedkami

Nga aguray kadagiti abongmi 
A padanonenmi ti inna isasangbay

Ti panagtao-apo ti bagiw ken ti kari 
Ti baniaga a russuak-baybay

A dimi met am-ammo. 
Kasano koma a dimi naammuan

No ania ti langa ni patay 
Iti panagkukkokna iti ridaw? 

Immay a kaduana ti agsagsagawisiw 
Nga angin, ken ditoy, iti daytoy a lugar

Manipud ditoy, nagorasionak, 
Nagtanamitimak koma iti pangbugiaw.

Ket wen, inaramidko, kas iti kitingkiting
Ngem di pimmanaw no di nagipusing 

Dina met ammo ti pagturonganna 
No di ket mangawit kadagiti amin a maawit

Kadagiti amin a kabaelanna nga irarem,
Amin nga umang-anges, addaan anges, 

Sibibiag, amin nga ammona ti agsamiweng 
Amin nga ammona ti lumdaang. 

Ket ita, mabatikami a manglagip
No kasano ti biag iti Merida, daytoy

A disso a nakangngegak iti kankansion
Iti rabii, a nakakitaak iti sala iti tudo

Ken disso a ni pammateg 
Ket umay a singin iti agnanayon.  

Panawakto ti malmaldaang a Merida: 
Mapanak kadagiti disso a natalingenngen. 

Dinakto panawan ti Merida
Tapno bay-annak kadagiti disso a natalingenngen.  


Hon, HI/
Nov 18, 2013

The Call of the Margins, The Crisis of the Center


By Aurelio Solver Agcaoili
U of Hawaii at Manoa
Presented at the 8th Nakem International Conference on 'The Center from the Margins,' U of Hawaii at Manoa, Nov 14-16, 2013

“The Call of the Margins, The Crisis of the Center”


The argument of my presentation is simple: that in a state such as the Philippines, a state marked by multiplicity, there is no place for the fascistic notion of a nation-state built upon the 19th century notion of state and the search for a proverbial ‘national language’ at the expense of other languages of the multi-nation state.

Let me be clear with my concepts: Multiplicity is meant the quality of being various, many, manifold, or multiple. Fascism’s many components is ‘the belief of the supremacy of one language, or one ethnic group’ over other languages or ethnic groups in a political body, or state.  ‘National language’ is the language imposed upon a people by law, by instruments of the law, and by the cultural and educational institutions and apparatuses of the state, a state that believes in that fascistic component of the supremacy of one language.

The issue of multiplicity in the Philippines, as well as in the United States, and many other countries for that matter is a fact.

There is not only a single Philippines, with just in the center.

There is, at the very least, per Ethnologue data (retrieved August 15, 2013), we have 185 languages in the Philippines, with 4 already extinct (based on estimate of Wurm 2007), Crystal 2003, Lobel 2004, 2005, 2012). This leaves us with 181 living languages but with this situation per Ethnologue: 43 are institutional, 70 developing, 45 vigorous, 13 in trouble, 10 dying.

We are not going to look too far for the reasons of this terrible situation of the Philippine languages: except for Tagalog (also known as P/Filipino, and English), there has never been public appreciation, valuing, respect, and recogntion of the importance of these community languages by the government. This attitude is the same attitude of all countries that are obsessed with coming up with its own ‘national’ language as a symbol of its being a nation. We forget that nationhood is not in the language, but in the collective commitment of people to bind themselves and for a union, and from that union, presumably a state would be created, with the state making it sure that the good of everyone, what we call in Latin as summun bonum, is protected and assured.

The summum bonum—the highest good or the common good—is the primus motor of the building of a society. Why build a society when the rights of everyone, when the good of everyone, is not protected? One might as well live in the mountains, or in the wilderness and do a Henry David Thoreau and create our own Walden Pond. 

I will argue that the evolution of the national language is a bad concept, a bad ideology, and an anti-people provision of human rights, and if by human rights here we mean the rights of people to their sense of the good life, to their person, their property, and their sense of freedom.  The 19th century ideal of a ‘nation’—an ideal borrowed from the Italian, Spanish, German, English, and French sources—is a phantasmagoric dream and a case of that which is surreal.

What happens with this borrowing of templates—of the wrong models of nation-building—is a repeat of the same horrific acts of these countries, acts that are tantamount to the suppression of the basic rights of peoples to their languages. Let us take France, one of the countries that would fight to death the maintenance of French as its official language. It has this situation: it has 25 languages, 2 of these already extinct. Of the 23 living languages: 5 are institutional, 11 developing, 3, vigorous, 2 in trouble, and 2 dying.  Considering that France is the country of ‘egalite, franternite, and liberte’, I wonder where the contradictions lay—if at all there is—in officializing only one, and with the rest remaining in the margins or in the periphery?

Let us see Spain: 15 languages in total, all are living. The situation is bad as well, with 4 in trouble of becoming extinct. Of these 15 too, 5 are institutional, 2, developing, and 4 vigorous.

Given the above argument, and limiting the discussion to the Philippines in the hope of expanding the argument in countries that are also linguistically diverse, we have a problem in the ‘nationalization’ or ‘officialization’ of one and only one language from within, and one and only one language from the outside. When we push this situation further, we end up with the absurd, such as educational practice that penalizes students for every word of their own community language that they speak, or at worst, having them expelled as in the case of the three students heard speaking Ilokano in a sectarian school that has adopted an English-only policy. The intention in these practices, of course, is noble, with the provision of mechanism for students to get to speak either Tagalog, or English, or both—so that they will be able to demonstrate their national, and so that they would become the literate group of English-speaking elite in the Philippines.

There is however, a principle in ethics that talks about the integral good, and saying that ‘bonum ex integra causa malum ex cucumque defectu: or, for a good to be good, it must be entirely good, and that any defect it has vitiates its goodness.  We look at this whole exercise in the Philippines—an exerce that has been going on for the longest time—for three generations, or 78 years since 1935, or 76 since 1937. These dates are crucial for our argument.

Let us look at the very ideology of state education, and we see here the bundle of contradictions in the Philippines: we are not fully accounting our languages in the Philippines, and that the only myopic way we look at our language is to make them instrument of a presumed, even fantasized, national communication and conversation.

We forget, of course, that prior to the evolving of Filipinas, our own diverse people have been conversing with each other because we know how to deal with each other, and because we spoke the language of each other, or the other. Today, we have forgotten the very tenet of good community relationship by insisting on the singularity of a national language and aided by the use of a language of international communication.

The whole thing, really, is bad governance.

When you deprive the students and communities of their own language—and therefore their own culture, you are pushing them to extinction. And if we care about birds going extinct, or tarsius monkey becoming memory, there is that clear paradox why we cannot seem to be alarmed by the extinction of one of our own languages. We have succeeded in making extinct 4 of our languages and 10 are already dying. When we factor in the fact that it takes a thousand of years, at the very least to evolve a language, our situation is truly alarming. But when we look into the real nature of language—as the carrier of our being, as abode of the human soul, as depository of human knowledge that took hundred of years of crystallization—we are all in the wrong.

Thus, our notion of the center—with the national language as the pivot of national conversation is utterly poor, impoverished, and unfair. The languages pushed to the margins must now begin to account its own possibilities and declare once and for all that languages—all of our languages—are our social resource.

The rainbow is beautiful because it has those colors and hues that are diverse and manifold. 

This is the way we should look at the Philippines. This is the way we should look at the languages of the world.


Pannakaisingay--Daniw a Para ken Sra Lydia Pavon

PANNAKAISINGAY

(Ken Ka Sra Lydia Pavon, iti panagkasangayna, Noviembre 19, 2013.)

Kenka ti alinuno, kabsat, iti mata daytoy,
tapno sadiay, iti fuersa ti biag, agwerret
amin a basbas para kenka, para kadakami.

Kas iti di masbaalan a rikna nga aggapu
iti pussuak, agburayok nga agsalakan
iti pariir ti angin tapno kumamang iti puso.

Sadiay, iti sadimpalnek dagiti sagrado a balikas
nga iti dulin ket mangidaton iti ayat, awan
iti kuadrado a bibig no di adda iti uppat
a kararua ni ragsak, sadiay, ti maibudi a bukel
dagiti amin a laing tapno iti panagitukit
ket agruting sa agsantak iti bengkag ti biag.

Saan a maisaksakibot dagiti kakastoy.

Wenno maipan iti bolsito tapno di marabsut
ti estranghero a pul-oy. Ketdi, iti aglaplapusanan
a matagtagibi a dungngo ket ti maani a bukel
nga iti idadateng ti umuna a tudo ket agtubo
tapno sarangtenna ti umuna a rayray
iti agsapa dagiti tarumpingay.

Maisingay dagitoy kas iti pannakaisingaymo
tapno mangted iti asi kas iti ay-ayo.

Hon, HI/
Nov 19, 2013



A PLAN TO SURVIVE--DANIW, FOR THE MANY VICTIMS OF YOLANDA

A PLAN TO SURVIVE

[How do we plan to survive in the coming days (if help is not coming)?--- Augusto Corro, mayor, Daangbantayan, Cebu mayor]

We can imagine this: manok Bisaya, tinuwang.
We will put in lots of ginger, the native kind too
The kind that lived on the land, at the foot of the hill
Where once, Daangbantayan was free to dream.

It could become a meal of a lifetime, memorable
As memorable can be: the soup, warm and inviting
Gets into the guts, and there reminds us that life
Is worth living despite the need to coax the sea

To calm down, restrain its rage so we can swim
On its waters once more, and lie flat on our back
And count the stars in the early evening hours
Identify where hope is in the interstices of the dark

And where song is between the sparkle of light.
But let us go back to the promise of the chicken soup.
We can have the pepper leaves, green in their offering
Of life anew, something beyond the watery grave

That could not give us cleansing, not now, even
As we think of this meal that is about to come.
We put in some green papaya plucked from the fields
Of this place that once, once, there was feasting

For all the hungry, for all those who have come here
To live, love, and laugh, people from all over where
Dreams died, and the torrents took delight in the dark
Night, and where in the morning hours we will sing.

Hon, HI/
Nov 18, 2013

THE LONG ARM OF THE NIGHT, THIS --- DANIW MAIPAPAN ITI YOLANDA

THE LONG ARM OF THE NIGHT, THIS

[For a brother who survived the Merida, Ormoc City, Yolanda storm surge but lost 20 members of his family. Here, he speaks, and I am retelling his story of grief. Grieve, brother, and live.]

It was the long arm of the night in Merida. 
The wall of water came too soon, its hands

Reaching out even to the chamber of fear
In their hearts, and in one full sweep, 

Twenty of them, my family, went with the current,
Their call for help going with the raging sea.

How do you count the tears for memories
Lost forever, irretrievable now that laughter

Is no longer possible by the foot of our mountain?
My mother will recount what that night was,

And she will forever recall how her children were
Wrapped in this Yolanda fear we never knew.

We could have run to the mountain top,
But the night was an abyss too, one of darkness

We also never knew, inviting us to remain
By our thatch-roofed homes and there welcome

The storm and its promise of a stranger of a surge
We also never knew. How could we have not known

What death was, as it knocked on our door?
It came with the whistling wind, and here, from where I am

I could have said the prayer to scare it off.
And yes, I did, but it never went away

Not knowing where to go except to bring with it
All that breathes, all that can sing, all that can cry.

And now we are left to remember what life
Was in Merida, this place where I heard

Singing in the night, seen dancing in the rain
And where loves came doubly eternal.

I will leave sad Merida for safer places.
Merida will never leave me for safer places.

Hon, HI/
Nov 18, 2013

Rising from Death--Daniw

RISING FROM DEATH
[For Rommel Maitim and all survivors of Yolanda.]

I do not know where Yolanda is now. I cannot text her, I have no cellphone. Maybe she and Ondoy are together in the afterlife. I want to text her, ‘Don’t ever come back. You put me through a worse experience than Ondoy.--Rommel Maitim, a survivor of Yolanda and Ondoy

You cannot but face it, this death by the doorstep.
And you have made it to shore, and here, in these lines
Are the stories you wrested from the surge of the sea
Raging to take what it can, and then burying in its abyss.

There is lottery in life as in death. A numbers game, this,
And between sobs and the anguish of welcoming the morning
Is the question demanding an answer. And there is none
To wait for except to keep the laughter within, threatening

Threat itself in order to have the chance to live.
You held onto a tree trunk or flotsam or fear
And here you are telling us how how you managed
To float, your body the altar of courage with limits.

This birth of a child past Ondoy to welcome Yolanda
Is a syllable of hope, one at a time, until the breeze
Of the future comes back into the present to offer
Something better than what was in these thousand deaths.

Hon, HI/
Nov 17, 2013

Despair in Tacloban

THE SYLLABLE OF DESPERATION

TACLOBAN, Philippines -- In the wake of the devastating Super Typhoon Haiyan, international help trickled into the central Philippines Monday, with promises of more help on the way soon. But in the city of Tacloban, desperate survivors seeking to flee the typhoon one were made to wait another day. weather.com & AP, Nov 11, 2013

The race is on, this lifting of babies,
an act to catch some hope to get out
of this wasteland. It used to be home,

this city of crisp laughter and refreshing rain,
comely maidens dancing with their young lovers
weaving what rainbow dreams can be woven

out of fertile fields and magical mountains.
In the remote past, healing words came out
of the murmur of riveting rivers, swaying seas

singing of the future, sunshiny bright
and warm and loving, a time after time
but this, this desperation in its deathly form!

It is ten thousand ceremonies of sorrow. And more.
When grips let loose and we have but this,
we permit the young ones to go away.

They do not deserve any second of this,
not this sadness that reminds of how the hours
were too long to wait, and the misery

is longer, far more, with no blue water
nor savory food to imagine. It is the usual meal
announcing its absence, and death

is by the door, and every door is let loose,
swung open for the rampaging waters to come in,
wrestle with everything, life and limb including,

carry all these beyond memory,
beyond seeing, to the depths of unseeing.
It is Tacloban, this city. It is more,

And the towns will recount what hit them,
and then we will no longer sing. At this
time, to lament is the order of the day.

See the syllable that is in the dirge,
this despair that stays, staying death
to appear for a while. Until then,

we count each sound we can count,
each meaning we can make out of this,
even as we try harder not to come to our knees.


Honolulu/
November 11, 2013

Poem for a Waray Father Holding His Lifeless Daughter in His Arms

A WARAY FATHER HOLDS HIS LIFELESS DAUGHTER IN HIS ARMS 

(From a front-page photo, Inquirer, Nov 11, 2013) 

Its name changes depending on where we are looking. 
It is Haiyan. It is Yolanda. It is death as this wall of water
reaches up to the limits of this small Tacloban universe

where lives are lived as before. The rich earth is sacred,
the calm water so, and the all-giving sea, sanctified forever
even as it buries bodies bloated after days of buoyancy

in the wrong places and times. It is carcass we see,
and let us all shoo the insatiable birds of prey, drive them
to where no woman or man is found, to the depths of this pain

that you all have go to through. Now, now, let me speak
with you, nameless father holding your own daughter,
dead to the world, dead to life, her arms and legs

limp as you hold her like a gift. It see Abram before
he conquered his fear. I see Isaac, and your daughter
is one oblation to life, not in the appropriate places,

but here we, go, co-father, what else is there but grieving
and this grief, personal and private, public and phantasmagoric!
I do not like these adjectives, but let me die a thousand death

with you for I am a father too, sir, and I know what happiness
there is to carry your young child, caress her so, smoothen
her unruly wavy hair blown by this hurricane of a restless wind

whose name changes in the way our fortunes do.
Let me walk with you, co-father, and pray
that each step you take will lead you to belief,

this one salve we can have after the chaos has subsided.
You will grow strong, and you will have other children
and you will see your daughter in your neighbors'.

And please, accept our prayers for you and for her.
Let her, this dear daughter, go with the blowing wind, free
and freed from this violence, go forth in that life hereafter,

and become the good earth, the sweet water,
the gleaming ray of the sun in this tragic Tacloban,
this sunken city of your mourning, grieving soul.

Honolulu/
Nov 11, 2013

Hurakan, Ilokano Lexicography


hurakan 1. png maysa a nakapigpigsa a bagio nga addaan iti umatiberret ken nakapegpegges nga angin, kas iti nakadangdangkok a siklon 2. png pegges ti nakapigpigsa nga angin: addaan daytoy iti fuersa a 199 kilometro per hora wenno fuersa a 12 iti iskala a Beaufort 3. spp hurricane (Ing) 4. etim Ing, agg Esp, huracan, agg, pos Tai, hurakan, ‘dios ti bagio’ 4. prt aghurakan, mahurakan 5. pld nahurakan 6. kej ‘Maysa kadagiti posible a pangilawlawag iti napasamak iti Makindaya a Visayas ket ti hurakan ken ti imbunga daytoy a russuak-bagio. Talaga a mahurakan dagiti nababa a lugar ken dagiti disso nga asideg iti baybay.’ 7. dsg russuak-bagio, russuak-baybay, siklon

Sors: A Solver Agcaoili, Monolinggual a Diksionario ken Tesoro nga Ilokano.