Rizal's Poetry

Mi Ultimo Adios

Farewell, my adored Land, region of the sun caressed,

Pearl of the Orient Sea, our Eden lost,

With gladness I give you my Life, sad and repressed;

And were it more brilliant, more fresh and at its best,

I would still give it to you for your welfare at most.

On the fields of battle, in the fury of fight,

Others give you their lives without pain or hesitancy,

The place does not matter: cypress laurel, lily white,

Scaffold, open field, conflict or martyrdom's site,

It is the same if asked by home and Country.

I die as I see tints on the sky b'gin to show

And at last announce the day, after a gloomy night;

If you need a hue to dye your matutinal glow,

Pour my blood and at the right moment spread it so,

And gild it with a reflection of your nascent light!

My dreams, when scarcely a lad adolescent,

My dreams when already a youth, full of vigor to attain,

Were to see you, gem of the sea of the Orient,

Your dark eyes dry, smooth brow held to a high plane

Without frown, without wrinkles and of shame without stain.

My life's fancy, my ardent, passionate desire,

Hail! Cries out the soul to you, that will soon part from thee;

Hail! How sweet 'tis to fall that fullness you may acquire;

To die to give you life, 'neath your skies to expire,

And in your mystic land to sleep through eternity !

If over my tomb some day, you would see blow,

A simple humble flow'r amidst thick grasses,

Bring it up to your lips and kiss my soul so,

And under the cold tomb, I may feel on my brow,

Warmth of your breath, a whiff of your tenderness.

Let the moon with soft, gentle light me descry,

Let the dawn send forth its fleeting, brilliant light,

In murmurs grave allow the wind to sigh,

And should a bird descend on my cross and alight,

Let the bird intone a song of peace o'er my site.

Let the burning sun the raindrops vaporize

And with my clamor behind return pure to the sky;

Let a friend shed tears over my early demise;

And on quiet afternoons when one prays for me on high,

Pray too, oh, my Motherland, that in God may rest I.

Pray thee for all the hapless who have died,

For all those who unequalled torments have undergone;

For our poor mothers who in bitterness have cried;

For orphans, widows and captives to tortures were shied,

And pray too that you may see you own redemption.

And when the dark night wraps the cemet'ry

And only the dead to vigil there are left alone,

Don't disturb their repose, don't disturb the mystery:

If you hear the sounds of cithern or psaltery,

It is I, dear Country, who, a song t'you intone.

And when my grave by all is no more remembered,

With neither cross nor stone to mark its place,

Let it be plowed by man, with spade let it be scattered

And my ashes ere to nothingness are restored,

Let them turn to dust to cover your earthly space.

Then it doesn't matter that you should forget me:

Your atmosphere, your skies, your vales I'll sweep;

Vibrant and clear note to your ears I shall be:

Aroma, light, hues, murmur, song, moanings deep,

Constantly repeating the essence of the faith I keep.

My idolized Country, for whom I most gravely pine,

Dear Philippines, to my last goodbye, oh, harken

There I leave all: my parents, loves of mine,

I'll go where there are no slaves, tyrants or hangmen

Where faith does not kill and where God alone does reign.

Farewell, parents, brothers, beloved by me,

Friends of my childhood, in the home distressed;

Give thanks that now I rest from the wearisome day;

Farewell, sweet stranger, my friend, who brightened my way;

Farewell, to all I love. To die is to rest.

Memories Of My Town

When I recall the days

That saw my childhood of yore

Beside the verdant shore

Of a murmuring lagoon;

When I remember the sighs

Of the breeze that on my brow

Sweet and caressing did blow

With coolness full of delight;

When I look at the lily white

Fills up with air violent

And the stormy element

On the sand doth meekly sleep;

When sweet 'toxicating scent

From the flowers I inhale

Which at the dawn they exhale

When at us it begins to peep;

I sadly recall your face,

Oh precious infancy,

That a mother lovingly

Did succeed to embellish.

I remember a simple town;

My cradle, joy and boon,

Beside the cool lagoon

The seat of all my wish.

Oh, yes! With uncertain pace

I trod your forest lands,

And on your river banks

A pleasant fun I found;

At your rustic temple I prayed

With a little boy's simple faith

And your aura's flawless breath

Filled my heart with joy profound.

Saw I God in the grandeur

Of your woods which for centuries stand;

Never did I understand

In your bosom what sorrows were;

While I gazed on your azure sky

Neither love nor tenderness

Failed me, 'cause my hapiness

In the heart of nature rests there.

Tender childhood, beautiful town,

Rich fountain of hapiness,

Of harmonious melodies,

That drive away my sorrow!

Return thee to my heart,

Bring back my gentle hours

As do the birds when the flow'rs

Would again begin to blow !

But, alas, adieu! E'er watch

For your peace, joy and repose,

Genius of good who kindly dispose

Of his blessings with amour;

It's for thee my fervent pray'rs,

It's for thee my constant desire

Knowledge ever to acquire

And may God keep your candour!

Our Mother Tongue

IF truly a people dearly love

The tongue to them by Heaven sent,

They'll surely yearn for liberty

Like a bird above in the firmament.

BECAUSE by its language one can judge

A town, a barrio, and kingdom;

And like any other created thing

Every human being loves his freedom.

ONE who doesn't love his native tongue,

Is worse than putrid fish and beast;

AND like a truly precious thing

It therefore deserves to be cherished.

THE Tagalog language's akin to Latin,

To English, Spanish, angelical tongue;

For God who knows how to look after us

This language He bestowed us upon.

AS others, our language is the same

With alphabet and letters of its own,

It was lost because a storm did destroy

On the lake the bangka  in years bygone.

"bangka" is a Tagalog term for canoe

To The Philippines

Aglowing and fair like a houri on high,

Full of grace and pure like the Morn that peeps

When in the sky the clouds are tinted blue,

Of th' Indian land, a goddess sleeps.

The light foam of the son'rous sea

Doth kiss her feet with loving desire;

The cultured West adores her smile

And the frosty Pole her flow'red attire.

With tenderness, stammering, my Muse

To her 'midst undines and naiads does sing;

I offer her my fortune and bliss:

Oh, artists! her brow chaste ring

With myrtle green and roses red

And lilies, and extol the Philippines!

To The Philippines

Rizal wrote the original sonnet in Spanish

Aglowing and fair like a houri on high,

Full of grace and pure like the Morn that peeps

When in the sky the clouds are tinted blue,

Of th' Indian land, a goddess sleeps.

The light foam of the son'rous sea

Doth kiss her feet with loving desire;

The cultured West adores her smile

And the frosty Pole her flow'red attire.

With tenderness, stammering, my Muse

To her 'midst undines and naiads does sing;

I offer her my fortune and bliss:

Oh, artists! her brow chaste ring

With myrtle green and roses red

And lilies, and extol the Philippines!

A Poem that has no title

To my Creator I sing

Who did soothe me in my great loss;

To the Merciful and Kind

Who in my troubles gave me repose.

Thou with that pow'r of thine

Said: Live! And with life myself I found;

And shelter gave me thou

And a soul impelled to the good

Like a compass whose point to the North is bound.

Thou did make me descend

From honorable home and respectable stock,

And a homeland thou gavest me

Without limit, fair and rich

Though fortune and prudence it does lack.

To The Philippine Youth

Unfold, oh timid flower !

Lift up your radiant brow,

This day, Youth of my native strand !

Your abounding talents show

Resplendently and grand,

Fair hope of my Motherland !

Soar high, oh genius great,

And with noble thoughts fill their mind;

The honor's glorious seat,

May their virgin mind fly and find

More rapidly than the wind.

Descend with the pleasing light

Of the arts and sciences to the plain,

Oh Youth, and break forthright

The links of the heavy chain

That your poetic genius enchain.

See that in the ardent zone,

The Spaniard, where shadows stand,

Doth offer a shining crown,

With wise and merciful hand

To the son of this Indian land.

You, who heavenward rise

On wings of your rich fantasy,

Seek in the Olympian skies

The tenderest poesy,

More sweet than divine honey;

You of heavenly harmony,

On a calm unperturbed night,

Philomel's match in melody,

That in varied symphony

Dissipate man's sorrow's blight;

You at th' impulse of your mind

The hard rock animate

And your mind with great pow'r consigned

Transformed into immortal state

The pure mem'ry of genius great;

And you, who with magic brush

On canvas plain capture

The varied charm of Phoebus,

Loved by the divine Apelles,

And the mantle of Nature;

Run ! For genius' sacred flame

Awaits the artist's crowning

Spreading far and wide the fame

Throughout the sphere proclaiming

With trumpet the mortal's name

Oh, joyful, joyful day,

The Almighty blessed be

Who, with loving eagerness

Sends you luck and happiness

Education Gives Luster To The Motherland

Wise education, vital breath

Inspires an enchanting virtue;

She puts the Country in the lofty seat

Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,

And just as the gentle aura's puff

Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:

So education with a wise, guiding hand,

A benefactress, exalts the human band.

Man's placid repose and earthly life

To education he dedicates

Because of her, art and science are born

Man; and as from the high mount above

The pure rivulet flows, undulates,

So education beyond measure

Gives the Country tranquility secure.

Where wise education raises a throne

Sprightly youth are invigorated,

Who with firm stand error they subdue

And with noble ideas are exalted;

It breaks immortality's neck,

Contemptible crime before it is halted:

It humbles barbarous nations

And it makes of savages champions.

And like the spring that nourishes

The plants, the bushes of the meads,

She goes on spilling her placid wealth,

And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,

The river banks through which she slips,

And to beautiful nature all she concedes,

So whoever procures education wise

Until the height of honor may rise.

From her lips the waters crystalline

Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,

And prudent doctrines of her faith

The forces weak of evil subdue,

That break apart like the whitish waves

That lash upon the motionless shoreline:

And to climb the heavenly ways the people

Do learn with her noble example.

In the wretched human beings' breast

The living flame of good she lights

The hands of criminal fierce she ties,

And fill the faithful hearts with delights,

Which seeks her secrets beneficient

And in the love for the good her breast she incites,

And it's th' education noble and pure

Of human life the balsam sure.

And like a rock that rises with pride

In the middle of the turbulent waves

When hurricane and fierce Notus roar

She disregards their fury and raves,

That weary of the horror great

So frightened calmly off they stave;

Such is one by wise education steered

He holds the Country's reins unconquered.

His achievements on sapphires are engraved;

The Country pays him a thousand honors;

For in the noble breasts of her sons

Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;

And in the love of good e'er disposed

Will see the lords and governors

The noble people with loyal venture

Christian education always procure.

And like the golden sun of the morn

Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,

And like fair aurora of gold and red

She overspreads her colors bold;

Such true education proudly gives

The pleasue of virtue to young and old

And she enlightens out Motherland dear

As she offers endless glow and luster.

To The Virgin Mary

Mary, sweet peace, solace dear

Of pained mortal ! You're the fount

Whence emanates the stream of succour,

That without cease our soil fructifies.

From thy throne, from heaven high,

Kindly hear my sorrowful cry !

And may thy shining veil protect

My voice that rises with rapid flight.

Thou art my Mother, Mary, pure;

Thou'll be the fortress of my life;

Thou'll be my guide on this angry sea.

If ferociously vice pursues me,

If in my pains death harasses me,

Help me, and drive away my woes !

Song Of Maria Clara

From his magnam opus Noli me tangere,

Sweet are the hours in one's own Native Land,

All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above;

Vivifying is the breeze that wafts over her fields;

Even death is gratifying and more tender is love.

Ardent kissed on a mother's lips are at play,

On her lap, upon the infant child's awakening,

The extended arms do seek her neck to entwine,

And the eyes at each other's glimpse are smiling.

It is sweet to die in one's own Native Land,

All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above;

And deathly is the breeze for one without

A country, without a mother and without love

Kundiman

Truly hushed today

Are my tongue and heart

Harm is discerned by love

And joy flies away,

'Cause the Country was

Vanquished and did yield

Through the negligence

Of the one who led.

But the sun will return to dawn;

In spite of everything

Subdued people

Will be liberated;

The Filipino name

Will return perhaps

And again become

In vogue in the world.

We shall shed

Blood and it shall flood

Only to emancipate

The native land;

While the designated time

Does not come,

Love will rest

And anxiety will sleep.

Hymn To Labor

For the Motherland in war,

For the Motherland in peace,

Will the Filipino keep watch,

He will live until life will cease!

MEN :

Now the East is glowing with light,

Go! To the field to till the land,

For the labour of man sustains

Fam'ly, home and Motherland.

Hard the land may turn to be,

Scorching the rays of the sun above...

For the country, wife and children

All will be easy to our love.

(Chorus)

WIVES :

Go to work with spirits high,

For the wife keeps home faithfully,

Inculcates love in her children

For virtue, knowledge and country.

When the evening brings repose,

On returning joy awaits you,

And if fate is adverse, the wife,

Shall know the task to continue.

(Chorus)

MAIDENS :

Hail! Hail! Praise to labour,

Of the country wealth and vigor!

For it brow serene's exalted,

It's her blood, life, and ardor.

If some youth would show his love

Labor his faith will sustain :

Only a man who struggles and works

Will his offspring know to maintain.

(Chorus)

CHILDREN :

Teach, us ye the laborious work

To pursue your footsteps we wish,

For tomorrow when country calls us

We may be able your task to finish.

And on seeing us the elders will say :

"Look, they're worthy 'f their sires of yore!"

Incense does not honor the dead

As does a son with glory and valor.