COMPILATION OF

JOSE RIZAL’S
POEMS

Submitted by: Ronato, Kimberly D.

TO MY FELLOW CHILDREN
Whenever people of a country truly love
The language which by heav'n they were taught to use
 That country also surely liberty pursue
As does the bird which soars to freer space above.
For language is the final judge and referee
Upon the people in the land where it holds sway;
In truth our human race resembles in this way
The other living beings born in liberty.
Whoever knows not how to love his native tongue
Is worse than any best or evil smelling fish.
To make our language richer ought to be our wish
The same as any mother loves to feed her young.
Tagalog and the Latin language are the same
And English and Castilian and the angels' tongue;
And God, whose watchful care o'er all is flung,
Has given us His blessing in the speech we calim,
Our mother tongue, like all the highest that we know
Had alphabet and letters of its very own;
But these were lost -- by furious waves were overthrown
Like bancas in the stormy sea, long years ago.

MY FIRST INSPIRATION
(Mi Primera Inspiracion)
Why falls so rich a spray 
of fragrance from the bowers 
of the balmy flowers 
upon this festive day?
Why from woods and vales 
do we hear sweet measures ringing 
that seem to be the singing 
of a choir of nightingales?
 Why in the grass below 
do birds start at the wind's noises, 
unleashing their honeyed voices 
as they hop from bough to bough?
Why should the spring that glows 
its crystalline murmur be tuning 
to the zephyr's mellow crooning 
as among the flowers it flows?
Why seems to me more endearing, 
more fair than on other days, 
the dawn's enchanting face 
among red clouds appearing?
The reason, dear mother, is 
they  feast your day of bloom: 
the rose with its perfume, 
the bird with its harmonies.
And the spring that rings with laughter 
upon this joyful day 
with its murmur seems to say: 
'Live happily ever after!'
And from that spring in the grove 
now turn to hear the first note 
that from my lute I emote 
to the impulse of my love.

FELICITATION
(Felicitacion)
If Philomela with harmonious tongue
To blond Apollo, who manifests his face
Behind high hill or overhanging mountain,
Canticles sends.

So we as well, full of a sweet contentment,

Salute you and your very noble saint
With tender music and fraternal measures,
Dear Antonino.

From all your sisters and your other kin

Receive most lovingly the loving accent
That the suave warmth of love dictates to them
Placid and tender.
 From amorous wife and amiable Emilio
Sweetly receive an unsurpassed affection;
And may its sweetness in disaster soften
The ruder torments.

As the sea pilot, who so bravely fought

Tempestuous waters in the dark of night,
Gazes upon his darling vessel safe
And come to port.

So, setting aside all [worldly] predilections,

Now let your eyes be lifted heavenward
To him who is the solace of all men
And loving Father.

And from ourselves that in such loving accents

Salute you everywhere you celebrate,
These clamorous vivas that from the heart resound
Be pleased to accept.

THE EMBARKATION, a hymn to Ferdinand

Magellan’s fleet
(El Embarque: Himno a la Flota de Magallanes)

One beautiful day when in East

The sun had gaily brightened,
At Barrameda with rejoicing great
Activities everywhere reigned.

‘Tis cause on the shores the caravels

Would part with their sails a-swelling;
And noble warriors with their swords
To conquer unknown world are going.

And all is glee and all is joy,

All is valor in the city.
Everywhere the husky sounds of drums
Are resounding with majesty.

With big echoes thousands of salvos

Makes at the ships a roaring cannon
And the Spanish people proudly greet
 The soldiers with affection.

Farewell! They say to them, loved ones,

Brave soldiers of the homeland;
With glories gird our mother Spain,
In the campaign in the unknown land!

As they move away to the gentle breath

Of the cool wind with emotion,
They all bless with a pious voice
So glorious, heroic action.
And finally, the people salute
The standard of Magellan
That he carries on the way to the seas
Where madly roars the hurricane.

AND HE IS SPANISH: ELCANO, THE FIRST TO

CIRCUMNAVIGATE THE WORLD
(Y Es Espanol: Elcano, el Primero en dar la Vuelta al Mundo, December )
And its vastness him doesn't hold.
Where does that frail ship go
That proudly cruises on And to red-tailed eagle akin
And ploughs the distant seas That soars high in the wind
To seek the lands unknown? With an unequalled flight
And with a movement swift,
Who's the brave and invincible,
That from far down the West Of the blowing storm that roars,
Sails on the expansive world He scorns the horrible hiss ;
To yonder roseate East? And mocks with kingly air
The lightning's shattering noise.
Of Spain he's a heroic son,
A Titan new of Pirene, And like a craggy rock
Who with fury fights against, No impetuous ocean in rage
If it holds him, the hurricane. Or the fury of hurricanes
Him can change or disengage ;
He's Elcano who undertakes
A task that enchants the world ; Such is the invincible
To accomplish it he vows Elcano, when cruising through
The waves, with his Spanish ships, He measured the extensive orb.
Their rage they might'ly subdue.
A thousand laurels crown
Triumphant crosses he Defender of Spain, your brow ;
The vast roundness of the globe And a brilliant diadem
With exceptional bravery Now proudly decorates you.
 The Battle: Urbiztondo, Terror of Jolo (El Combate:
Urbiztondo, Terror de Jolo, December 1875)

A hundred war-tried ships He roars, engendering fear,

At the mercy of the gentle wind, As he looks upon the prey
Leave behind Manila bay That with havoc he devours;
-The ruffled sea they plough. So the noted fighting men
A short while they descry With fury and frenzied fright,
The Moros of Jolo Approach the barricades
Who with pride they raise As they give a headlong assault.
A thousand waving flags.
And the Castiles' lion shakes
And when the soldiers strong His forelock wrathfully
Had alighted on the shores And readies his pointed claws
And pointed all their guns To spread tears everywhere.
Against the enemy's wall,
With manly accent spoke Eight bastions, do surrender
The general : "Soldiers of mine, Of the Moros of Jolo
Upon your valor depends To the furious rattle of Mars
The rich glory of victory. And Urbiztondo's assault.

"I would prefer to die Ah ! They're the ones, noble Spain,

Rather than desist from attack ; Like Lepanto's heroes they are,
To thee the country entrusts At Pavia they're the ones
Her noble, sacred seals." Who're the thunderbolt of war.
Said he ; and like Notus fierce
By horrid lightning hedged in The fire consumes and devours
In furious tempests it sows The castles and palaces
Sad weeping and mourning around ; And all the Joloans own
So Urbiztondo unsubdued At our soldiers fierce attack.
His soldiers following him, Perfidious Mahumat flees,
He spreads death everywhere Tyrannical and godless Sultan,
With cold steel in his hand. And the warriors valorous
March into Jolo as they sing.
And like a lion in the woods

IN MEMORY OF MY TOWN
(Un Recuerdo A Mi Pueblo)
  spent on the green shores
When I remember the days of a murmurous lagoon;
that saw my early childhood when I remember the coolness,
delicious and refreshing, and your unsullied breeze
that on my face I felt exhilarated my heart.
as I heard Favonius croon;  
  The Creator I saw in the grandeur
When I behold the white lily of your age-old forests;
swell to the wind’s impulsion, upon your bosom, sorrows
and that tempestuous element were ever unknown to me;
meekly asleep on the sand; while at your azure skies
when I inhale the dear I gazed, neither love nor tenderness
intoxicating essence failed me, for in nature
the flowers exude when dawn lay my felicity.
is smiling on the land;  
  Tender childhood, beautiful town,
Sadly, sadly I recall rich fountain of rejoicing
your visage, precious childhood, and of harmonious music
which an affectionate mother that drove away all pain:
made beautiful and bright; return to this heart of mine,
I recall a simple town, return my gracious hours,
my comfort, joy and cradle, return as the birds return
beside a balmy lake, when flowers spring again!
the seat of my delight.  
  But O goodbye! May the Spirit
Ah, yes, my awkward foot of Good, a loving gift-giver,
explored your sombre woodlands, keep watch eternally over
and on the banks of your rivers your peace, your joy, your sleep!
in frolic I took part. For you, my fervent pryers;
I prayed in your rustic temple, for you, my constant desire
to learn; and I pray heaven
your innocence to keep!
a child, with a child’s devotion;
INTIMATE ALLIANCE BETWEEN RELIGION AND
GOOD EDUCATION
(Alianza Intima Entre la Religion y la Buena Educacion)
  Unpolluted fountain-head forsakes.
As the climbing ivy over lefty elm  
Creeps tortuously, together the adornment As the sprout, growing from the pompous vine,
Of the verdant plain, embellishing Proudly offers us its honeyed clusters
Each other and together growing, While the generous and loving garment
But should the kindly elm refuse its aid Feeds its roots; so the fresh’ning waters
The ivy would impotent and friendless wither Of celestial virtue give new life
So is Education to Religion To Education true, shedding
By spiritual alliance bound. On it warmth and light; because of them
Through Religion, Education gains renown, and The vine smells sweet and gives delicious fruit.
Woe to the impious mind that blindly spurning  
The sapient teachings of Religion, this
Without Religion, Human Education If Religion holy nourishes
Is like unto a vessel struck by winds Education with its doctrines, she
Which, sore beset, is of its helm deprived Shall walk in joy and generosity
By the roaring blows and buffets of the dread Toward the Good, and everywhere bestrew
Tempestuous Boreas, who fiercely wields The fragrant and luxuriant fruits of Virtue.
His power until he proudly sends her down
Into the deep abysses of the angered sea.
 
As the heaven’s dew the meadow feeds and
strengthens
So that blooming flowers all the earth
Embroider in the days of spring; so also

EDUCATION GIVES LUSTER TO THE

MOTHERLAND
(Por la Educacion Recibe Lustre la Patria)
 
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
Wise education, vital breath And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Inspires an enchanting virtue; Do learn with her noble example.
She puts the Country in the lofty seat  
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow, In the wretched human beings' breast
And just as the gentle aura's puff The living flame of good she lights
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue: The hands of criminal fierce she ties,
So education with a wise, guiding hand, And fill the faithful hearts with delights,
A benefactress, exalts the human band. Which seeks her secrets beneficent
  And in the love for the good her breast she incites,
Man's placid repose and earthly life And it's th' education noble and pure
To education he dedicates Of human life the balsam sure.
Because of her, art and science are born  
Man; and as from the high mount above And like a rock that rises with pride
The pure rivulet flows, undulates, In the middle of the turbulent waves
So education beyond measure When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
Gives the Country tranquility secure. She disregards their fury and raves,
  That weary of the horror great
Where wise education raises a throne So frightened calmly off they stave;
Sprightly youth are invigorated, Such is one by wise education steered
Who with firm stand error they subdue He holds the Country's reins unconquered.
And with noble ideas are exalted; His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
It breaks immortality's neck, The Country pays him a thousand honors;
Contemptible crime before it is halted: For in the noble breasts of her sons
It humbles barbarous nations Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And it makes of savages champions. And in the love of good e'er disposed
And like the spring that nourishes Will see the lords and governors
The plants, the bushes of the meads, The noble people with loyal venture
She goes on spilling her placid wealth, Christian education always procure.
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,  
The river banks through which she slips, And like the golden sun of the morn
And to beautiful nature all she concedes, Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
So whoever procures education wise And like fair aurora of gold and red
Until the height of honor may rise. She overspreads her colors bold;
  Such true education proudly gives
From her lips the waters crystalline The pleasure of virtue to young and old
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue, And she enlightens out Motherland dear
And prudent doctrines of her faith As she offers endless glow and luster.
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves  
 The Captivity and the Triumph: Battle of Lucena and the
Imprisonment of Boabdil
(El Cautiverio y el Triunfo: Batalla de Lucena y Prision de Boabdil)
           
The proud Abencérage provokes  And everywhere is heard alone
The soldiers brave of Castilla  Of flashing steel the rattling.
Ferociously to humble him  
After he had destroyed Montilla. Don Alonso Aguilar attacks
  Them on one flank furious battle.
The Count of Cabra soon arrives He wounds, beheads, devastates, and assaults 
In his strong arm he displays his saber, As a wolf does, the timid cattle.
Like Death that lugubriously unfolds  
Her black wings of death and slaughter. Alas! The Muslim, stubborn and cruel
  Implores his Prophet vainly
Toward the troops of an impious race While against the Christians noble and strong, 
Like a lion he dashes eagerly ; The spear and the rein tightens he.
As the radiant sun to the new-born day   
With him goes Don Diego anxiously. Amidst the fiery tumult of war
  There did the commander brave die : 
Thus like the fleeing fugitive stag Into pieces broken: helmets, spears, 
Evading the fleeting arrow And horses on the ground lie.
The haughty heart so filled with fright,  
The Prophet's armies away go. His soldiers now terrified and tired
But not so the ferocious cavalry, Flee before the Christian victors ; 
As shield its breast it exposes,  Just as away the timorous dear
With gallantry it awaits the fight Run as the lion brave roars.
To attack with utter harshness.  
  When the King, abandoned, finds himself 
Boabdil encourages his hordes And seeing escape isn't too soon,
With wrath and savage fury : He gets down his horses terrified,
His anguish on his face he shows And hides in the woods like a poltroon.
With grit to the fleeing men speaks he  
"To where art thou led, Oh, Trickless Moors,  Two unconquered Christians found him ;
By the fear thee blinds and chases? And by royal symbols detected, 
Instantly to Don Diego him they took
From whom do thee flee? With whom, hapless men,  Like a royal captive defeated.
 
The stout heart to fight refuses?" There at Lucena the Christians' God
  Humbled down the arrogant's power 
Said he ; and with menace the trumpet sounds ;  Who wanted to tie with a heavy chain
Ours arrive and start the fighting, The Spaniard as downcast pris'ner

TRIUMPHANT ENTRY OF THE CATHOLIC

MONARCHS INTO GRANADA(Entrada triunfal de los
Reyes Católicos en Granada, December 1876)
  Treads the Alhambra's beautiful floor.
'Tt was a quiet and gloomy night The face pale, loose his hair,
Whose memory hurts the heart, Tired eyes of frigid gaze,
A night ago in which the Muslim King Head low, recumbent his face,
The sad Muslim looks at his palaces. Indeed! I your unhappy King,
The Muslim looks at them and abundant tears To the Libyan desert lands
Bathe his eyes, a-flowing down his cheeks, Hurled and with chains
And to the ceiling gilt and arabesque By fate I also go.
He turns again his weary gaze. "Today I lose everything, everything,
Sand and tearful he remembers then Kingdom, palace, treasure
The Muslim exploits and the glorious jousts ; And so alone I sadly weep
And comparing the present ills What cruel grief prepares for me;
With the combats of past days, There was a time when your tow'rs
"Goodbye, Alhambra," he says; "Alhambra, Preponderantly ruled
goodbye, And they were the havoc and dread
Abode of joy and abundant happiness ; Of squadrons in front."
Goodbye, palace full of pleasures, He said and the squadrons he sees
Inexhaustible fountain of delight. Commanded by Talavera,
Sad I leave you and now I'm going As he waves the flag
To cruel exile, of hardships full, Of Christian religion;
In order not to see your towers high,  
That by royal order the forts
Your fountains clear and rich abodes." They were going to occupy
And to take possession of
He said ; and moaning the costly habiliments The Alhambra and its rooms.
Of the gilded apartments he removes ;  
And of its beautiful decorations stripped And to Fernando Talavera
The huge halls, sad he withdraws, Who rules the knights
And in the silence of the night With respect addresses himself
  The unfortunate Boabdil ;
When the luckless Arabs were asleep, And in manner like this speaks to him
When only the hissing of the winds With mournful stress,
Through the peaceful city could be heard Into cruel anguish plunged
And crossing the streets In a thousand anxieties submerged:
Of that now forsaken realm,  
Pale and petrified "Go my lord, go immediately
Bathed in mortal sweat; To take hold of those abodes
Only lamentations deep By the great Almighty reserved
Were heard everywhere, For your powerful King;
And some doleful voice Allah chastises the Moors;
Thrown in its wild complaint. Strip them of their property;
  From their country he throws them out
The king stopped; the towers he saw For they did not keep his law."
He contemplated those walls;  
The bottles remembered he He said no more ; on his way
That he waged in happy times; The Mohammedan proceeds
But he could not control himself And behind goes his faithful band
And he lowered his gazed to the ground  In silence and with grief.
And mournfully said Aback they didn't turn their gaze
As he bends his head: To contemplate their ground,
"Alas! Granada what happened to you? For affliction perhaps would strike
What became of your nights? Them with greater vehemence.
Alas! Where do your warriors sleep  
That your anguish they don't see? And in the distance they see
The Christians' camp did show The captives of the defeated Moor,
Signs of contentment and joy Who sadly were dragging chains
Upon seeing the celestial Cross And suff'ring torments and pains
That on the Alhambra is displayed With joy came to Isabel.
When the city was overrun ;  
And 'twas the primary sign Like long-suff'ring warriors brave
Of the race that was subdued. The clement King greets them,
  His gladness showing on his face
And th' unhappy Monarch hears 'Cause from evil he saw them freed;
The voice of "Long live Castille !" And the Queen abundant alms
And he sees on their knees Distributes with benevolent hand
  That Queen who's always of God
The Spanish Combatants; Ought to wear immortal crown.
And from the trumpets he hears  
Triumphal harmonies. And as the Muslims hear
And the brilliant helmets he sees The cries of festivity,
The bright sun shining on them. Sonorous beating of drums,
His footsteps then he turns And the singing of delight,
  They lamented their fate,
Toward King Fernando The glory they have lost,
Who advances ordering Their race that was subdued,
His troops with majesty; Their country without peer.
And as he nears the King,  
The Moor gives to him the keys, Their mournful groans
The only treasure and sign They carefully hide,
Of the Mohammedan pow'r. Their tearful pray'rs,
  To be heard they fear
"See there," Boabdil says to him, Would augment the pride
What I can offer you, Of that victory
And the only thing left to me, That causes their woe.
Of the Arabic domain  
My kingdom, trophies, men, Now the flag of Spain
Fields, houses, victories, Proudly waves o'er the walls
Exalted honors, tow'rs Of noble Granada now secure !
And gardens all, now are yours." Now the Catholic Kings
  From their seat opulent
Boabdil thus did speak Will decree wise laws
And having paid his respect For the children of Genil.
From that place he withdraws  
A thousand ills he saw Now delightful Granada, proud
Continuing his slow pace Is Christians' dwelling place
His warriors sending forth And Granada belongs
A thousand doleful groans To the faithful populace.
As they leave the fair Genil.  
  Now from Heaven God looks down
Now, the warlike clarion With joy the beautiful tow'rs
Of Fernando sounds th' entry And merlons all full
 In Granada lovely and fair, Of Trophies and laurel.
Now Christian with no infidel;
 THE HEROISM OF COLUMBUS
(El Heroismo de Colon, 1877)

Oh tell me, celestial Muse, who in the mind And the hatred cruel of all that the ocean holds. . .
Of Columbus infused a breath sublime, And ere you step on the foreign shores,
Invested with noble courage and faith, War and discord I’ll put within your ship;
To plough the seas of the West? And I’ll not rest until I see your ruin,
Who gave him brav’ry whem imposing If divine protection saves you not…
The sea was angered. The wind roared,  
That in his rage the bad angel called “Hush, deceitful monster, with son’rous voice
Against the son of faithful Spain? Christopher answers him, ignorance….”
 
In the midst of solemn tranquility Columbus and John II (Colon y Juan II)
When languid earth was asleep,  
And the moon its trembling disc "Christopher, to you, fame,
Through the diaphanous sky did steer, And immortal crown and great renown 
A man contemplates the wavy sea… Homage history pays !
Seen painted on his smiling face Your august name reaches
So magnificent clemency’s pow’r Posterity and is amazed.
Exuding kindness and intelligence.  
  "Blesses you the world
The curly whitish waves of the sea In canticles of love and contentment
That bathe the spreading shore, All that Lusitania
Like silver reflect the white light Holds proclaim instantly
To the soft breath of perfumed breeze; Your faith's noble valor.
And while from the shadows strange  
Around danced winged multitude, "Who, like you, is gentle,
An old man, furious, fierce and grave Constant, resigned, and gen'rous? 
Fantastic rose from the sea profound. Conquered thou the dreadful
  Fury of the wavy sea
He hold firm in his strong right hand And the cowardly, treach'rous mariner.
A heavy trident aflame…  
  "Hail, illustrious Adm'ral, 
“And your audacious heart hopes to subdue Firm of heart, fiery in the fight ; 
The fierce sea’s terrible rage To your constant valor
That when the fiery tempest roars Kindly today I offer
In mass it rises gloomy and grave? Castles and honors together.
Oh! Who could calmly contemplate "I, your voice I shall be
The iron cold of bloody fate, To proclaim before my standards 
That the roar of the wind which resounds Viceroy of good graces
In the abyss a sad tomb opes? And above the towers
  I shall put your name in royal flags."
“What lies beyond? Only death,  
The dark sea that dreadfully terrifies Thus did speak the sov'reign, 
And infuses fear in the stoutest heart, Portugal's Juan the enlightened. 
Where at each instant darkly appears Glory great beforehand
The tempest, with the mariner in doubt And the highest post in his palace 
How to guide his ship in such calamity; Offers he the veteran.
And the waters bury him in the depth  
Where a thousand horrible monsters hide. But . . . hurriedly he flees
  Columbusfrom the treach'rous deceiver 
“But, alas, poor you! Alas, unhappy Spain Of the palace ambitious;
If you run in search of land remote! Runs he, flies to where dwells
I will excite the north wind’s rage Isabel the Christian, his benefactress.

GREAT SOLACE IN GREAT MISFORTUNE

(Gran Consuelo en la Mayor Desdicha, 1878)

Hardly the shining Phoebus Dyed the clouds scarlet

Morning now is peeping Full of men who’re fleeing shamefully:
With delighted freshness; He alone is animated, firmly hopes;
When the bicolored standard Fights he and fights again with cruel death.
Of Castilla shows up Thrice the frightening silence
Upright in the matutinal air Calls him to a soft pleasant sleep;
On a fragile craft And three times the fleet with skill
Through the wide sea directed he…
The great Admiral Columbus Yielded he at last…. In sorry abandon
Of the Spanish nation, Alas, he leaves the ship! …. Cruel mishap!....
It is he who waves the flag To inexpert hands and entrusting
In the wind on the high sea. Castille’s name and greatness.
And the ship goes a gliding And in the meantime, and the ship to the
Over the waters crystalline Breakers, shoal
His subalterns did want to reach Impetuous, Wild
Very quickly the mines of gold Sounded, Ran.
At the repeated blow of breakers,
On his way he visits Rises instantly Columbus,
The great Cacique courteous and kind, Knows he the trouble: shouts he disturbed….
Th’Admiral contemplates Come to him his men and seeing him are shocked:
To return it with love, What confusion!... what voices!!! Grating noise
And th’arrogant Cacique Heard everywhere!.... The fleet is advancing
Offers him fom his treasure On his way he visits
A collosal bat of gold, The great Cacique courteous and kind,
Gift of infinite value. Th’ Admiral contemplates
To return it with love,
It was night and to common response And th’ arrogant Cacique
Thinking not og the days’ hardships, Offers him from his treasure
The ship’s brave men gave themselves, A colossal bar of gold,
Only one youth did keep watch. Gift of infinite value.
It was night and to common repose
Thrice the frightening silence Thinking not of the days’ hardships,
Calls him to a soft pleasant sleep; The ship’s brave men gave themselves.
And three times the fleet with skill Only one youth did keep watch.
Through the wide sea directed he… Hardly the shining Phoebus
Yielded he at last… In sorry…abandon Dyed the clouds scarlet
Alas, he leaves the ship!... Morning now is peeping
Cruel mishap!... With delightful freshness;
To inexpect hands and entrusting When the bicolored standard
Castille’s name and greatness. Of Castilla shows up
Upright in the matutinal air
And the meantime, and the ship to the On a fragile floating craft.
Breakers, shoal The great Admiral Columbus
Impetuous, wild Of the Spanish nation,
Sounded, ran.
It is he who waves the flag
At the repeated blow of breakers, In the wind on the high sea,
Rises instantly Columbus And, the ship goes a-gliding
Knows he the trouble; shouts be disturbed… Over the waters crystalline
Come to him his men and seeing him are shocked: His subalterns did want to reach
What confusion!... what voices!!! Grating noises Very quickly the mines of gold.
Heard everywhere!... The fleet is advancing
To the sandbank; all persist in fighting,
If asleep they’re dreaming, some are in doubt.
Only Columbus, like resounding thunder,
In the midst of the frightful night,
Raises his voice, serenely he throws
To the water a boat, with majestic words
Gives he the order…. But soon the shop

CHILD JESUS
(Al Nino Jesus, November 1875)
 
Why have you come to earth, 
Child-God, in a poor manger? 
Does Fortune find you a stranger 
from the moment of your birth?
Alas, of heavenly stock 
now turned an earthly resident! 
Do you not wish to be president 
but the shepherd of your flock?
 VIRGIN MARY (A La Virgen Maria, to Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage)

Mary, sweet peace and dearest consolation 

of suffering mortal: you are the fount whence springs 
the current of solicitude that brings 
unto our soil unceasing fecundation.
From your abode, enthroned on heaven's height, 
in mercy deign to hear my cry of woe 
and to the radiance of your mantle draw 
my voice that rises with so swift a flight.
You are my mother, Mary, and shall be 
my life, my stronghold, my defense most thorough; 
and you shall be my guide on this wild sea.
If vice pursues me madly on the morrow, 
if death harasses me with agony: 
come to my aid and dissipate my sorrow!

TO THE PHILIPPINE YOUTH

(A la Juventud Filipina)
  A crown's resplendent band
Hold high the brow serene, Proffers to this Indian land.
O youth, where now you stand;  
Let the bright sheen Thou, who now wouldst rise
Of your grace be seen, On wings of rich emprise,
Fair hope of my fatherland! Seeking from Olympian skies
  Songs of sweetest strain,
Come now, thou genius grand, Softer than ambrosial rain;
And bring down inspiration;  
With thy mighty hand, Thou, whose voice divine
Swifter than the wind's violation, Rivals Philomel's refrain
Raise the eager mind to higher station. And with varied line
  Through the night benign
Come down with pleasing light Frees mortality from pain;
Of art and science to the fight,  
O youth, and there untie Thou, who by sharp strife
The chains that heavy lie, Wakest thy mind to life ;
Your spirit free to blight. And the memory bright
  Of thy genius' light
See how in flaming zone Makest immortal in its strength ;
Amid the shadows thrown,  
The Spaniard'a holy hand And thou, in accents clear
Of Phoebus, to Apelles dear ; See that in the ardent zone,
Or by the brush's magic art The Spaniard, where shadows stand,
Takest from nature's store a part, Doth offer a shining crown,
To fig it on the simple canvas' length ; With wise and merciful hand
  To the son of this Indian land.
Go forth, and then the sacred fire  
Of thy genius to the laurel may aspire ; You, who heavenward rise
To spread around the fame, On wings of your rich fantasy,
And in victory acclaim, Seek in the Olympian skies
Through wider spheres the human name. The tenderest poesy,
  More sweet than divine honey;
Day, O happy day,  
Fair Filipinas, for thy land! You of heavenly harmony,
So bless the Power to-day On a calm unperturbed night,
That places in thy way Philomel's match in melody,
This favor and this fortune grand ! That in varied symphony
  Dissipate man's sorrow's blight;
To the Philippine Youth  
You at th' impulse of your mind
Unfold, oh timid flower! The hard rock animate
  And your mind with great pow'r consigned
Lift up your radiant brow, Transformed into immortal state
This day, Youth of my native strand! The pure mem'ry of genius great;
 
Your abounding talents show And you, who with magic brush
Resplendently and grand, On canvas plain capture
Fair hope of my Motherland! The varied charm of Phoebus,
  Loved by the divine Apelles,
Soar high, oh genius great, And the mantle of Nature;
And with noble thoughts fill their mind;  
The honor's glorious seat, Run ! For genius' sacred flame
May their virgin mind fly and find Awaits the artist's crowning
More rapidly than the wind. Spreading far and wide the fame
  Throughout the sphere proclaiming
Descend with the pleasing light With trumpet the mortal's name
Of the arts and sciences to the plain, Oh, joyful, joyful day,
Oh Youth, and break forthright The Almighty blessed be
The links of the heavy chain Who, with loving eagerness
That your poetic genius enchain. Sends you luck and happiness.
 

ABD-EL-AZIS AND MOHAMMED

(ABD-EL-AZIS Y MAHOMA)
  Like the mournful sound of hollow bronze 
It was night: the moaning wind That deplores the agony of man,
Sighs as it kisses the towers tall Thus the sepulchral silence his voice 
And on its wings carries mournfully Ruffles, and the fatidical vision the Moor.
Thousands of confused noises agitating the space.  
  "Alas ! Alas ! It tells him, and resounded profound 
Aweful clouds bedim the peace Th' echo of his voice calm and cold,
Of the dark night's beautiful star, Terrible echo that touches the soul,
And a soft tint like a mantle of snow  Like the remembrance of a friendly voice.
Covers the fields that the Spaniard treads.  
  "Alas, poor me ! Pity the nation brave 
There, from the tall Moorish tow'r  That the sandy Lybia saw on her breast ! 
Sings the owl on th' imposing peak,  Alas, poor Koran, sacred patrimony
Numberless evils and bloody fights  That to the Muslim Allah once bequeathed !
With fatidical accent foretells.  
  Vainly did you conquer the flags
In the meanwhile on the soft bed Of the Pow'rful Christian of Guadalete 
That the luxurious Moor makes of ivory, On the green banks, for again
Rest doth seek the weary, brave Abd-El-Azis,  Raises he rebellious his captive head.
Pleasant relief from the bygone" day.  
  Pelayo, the great Pelayo, the noble Goth, 
Th' incense mild in silver tripods  The illustrious son of fierce Favila,
That th' Arabian bark distills, On the hard rocks of Covadonga
Burns and spreads intoxicating scent,  Fights the forces of the Moor.
Of the sumptuous chamber soft delight.  
  The Cross, the Cross, insignia idolized, 
Everything is silent : everyone sleeps ;  Follows its army that to conquer aspires: 
Only the sorrowful Moor keeps guard,  Mary goes with them with her cloak 
Contemplates the light that sadly  Shelters she with love the bodies weak.
Penetrates through th' elegant arch.  
  But don't fear, for triumphant ever be 
But so sudden he beholds outlined Will the Muslim in the combat crude,
Dubious shadow that in the gentle light  And of no avail her protection would be
Agitates him for a time, and his sullen face  For only God helps the faithful with his arm.
Masculine contour acquires.  
  But alas! If you sleep in the arms of delight 
With a white turban covered in his head,  And my heavenly precepts you ignore
Animates his countenance a lengthy beard,  The throne that sustained Tarif will fall 
From his belt a curved cutlass hangs  To the rough blow of the sword profane
Horribly dripping with ardent blood.  
  Like the overflowing river your blood 
Will inundate the vales and fields   
And the flourishing Iberia's ground  Before the Moon that my insignia displays 
Th' Arab's cold tomb will become ; Make the Cross its fortress yield,
  And forever victorious may they shine 
And in numberless battles in eternal war, The beneficent doctrines of the Koran."
Into your breasts will plunge  
The proud Spaniard's knife, and the vile dust  Said he ; and like a lightly rising smoke 
Like the accursed .serpent you'll bite ; That a strong wind rapidly dissipates, 
  Thus disappeared the terrible fright
And you'll yield the ground inch by inch  That the vision divine caused the Moor.
Fertilized by your blessed blood ;
The weak women and children slaves will be To The Philippines, February 1880
In their sad affliction ; A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin
   
Hurled again to the desert cruel, Warm and beautiful like a houri of yore, 
Bitter tears for peace that was lost as gracious and as pure as the break of dawn 
You will shed, and in shameful torment  when darling clouds take on a sapphire tone, 
You will count the days of your return. sleeps a goddess on the Indian shore. 
  The small waves of the sonorous sea assail 
And rejoicing proudly at your distress her feet with ardent, amorous kisses, while 
In their perfidy A thousand ships will arm,  the intellectual West adores her smile; 
And the beautiful ground where I rest in peace  and the old hoary Pole, her flower veil. 
They will threaten with fury never seen. My Muse, most enthusiastic and elate, 
  sings to her among naiads and undines; 
Arm yourself ! Run ! Quickly fly !  I offer her my fortune and my fate. 
Cast your veteran army with the fight With myrtle, purple roses, and flowering greens 
And to the wind let the son'rous trumpet release  and lilies, crown her brow immaculate, 
Warlike accent, to glory a toast. O artists, and exalt the Philippines! 
 
Trembles the ground beneath the saddle light 
Of the fiery steed that Arabia breeds
And like showy murex in burning red
Infidel blood tints your scimitar.

Al M.R.P. PABLO RAMON

  Without the guidance or your kind hand,
Sweet is the breeze that at the break of dawn Your love, your zeal?
The calyx of fragrant flowers shakes,  
Alluring odors soft they spread We're, Father, your sons; you do guide us
O'er the countryside ; To the homes of eternal happiness.
  The mind will not be disturbed by fright
The placid murmur is sweet and soft With a pilot like you.
Of the gentle rivulet that with joy  
Throws silv'ry foam on sands of gold The great Apostle whose name you bear,
And drops of water white ; Whose footsteps with enthusiasm you trail,
  With heavenly favor shower you,
Sweet are the trills of musical birds A sacred treasure.
Soft is th' aroma of motley flow'rs
And the perfumes of th' aurora white
Mellow and sweet;
 
But your name, oh, Father idolized,
 Instills the purest joy in our breast,
Whence it diffuses most mellow rays
Of eternal glow.
 
The Almighty's hand affectionate
You show us, Father, whose love sincere
Throughout the bitter road of life
Does guide us with love.
 
Alas! What will become of youthful toil
That restlessly burns in our breast,
 GOODBYE TO LEONOR
And so it has arrived -- the fatal instant,
the dismal injunction of my cruel fate;
so it has come at last -- the moment, the date,
when I must separate myself from you.

Goodbye, Leonor, goodbye! I take my leave,

leaving behind with you my lover's heart!
Goodbye, Leonor: from here I now depart.
O Melancholy absence! Ah, what pain!
 
 They Ask Me for Verses
(Me Piden Versos,)
 
I IV
They bid me strike the lyre While in my childhood days
so long now mute and broken, I could smile upon her sunshine,
but not a note can I waken I felt in my bosom, seething,
nor will my muse inspire! a fierce volcano ablaze.
She stammers coldly and babbles A poet was I, for I wanted
when tortured by my mind; with my verses, with my breath,
she lies when she laughs and thrills to say to the swift wind: "Fly
as she lies in her lamentation, and propagate her renown!
for in my sad isolation Praise her from zone to zone,
my soul nor frolics nor feels. from the earth up to the sky!"
   
II V
There was a time, 'tis true, I left her! My native hearth,
but now that time has vanished a tree despoiled and shriveled,
when indulgent love or friendship no longer repeats the echo
called me a poet too. of my old songs of mirth.
Now of that time there lingers I sailed across the vast ocean,
hardly a memory, craving to change my fate,
as from a celebration not noting, in my madness,
some mysterious refrain that, instead of the weal I sought,
that haunts the ears will remain the sea around me wrought
of the orchestra's actuation. the spectre of death and sadness.
   
III VI
A scarce-grown plant I seem, The dreams of younger hours,
uprooted from the Orient, love, enthusiasm, desire,
where perfume is the atmosphere have been left there under the skies
and where life is a dream. of that fair land of flowers.
O land that is never forgotten! Oh, do not ask of my heart
And these have taught me to sing: that languishes, songs of love!
the birds with their melody, For, as without peace I tread
the cataracts with their force this desert of no surprises,
and, on the swollen shores, I feel that my soul agonizes
the murmuring of the sea. and that my spirit is dead.
 

To Miss C.O.
 Why ask for those unintellectual verses  
that once, insane with grief, I sang aghast? Why resurrect unhappy memories
Or are you maybe throwing in my face now when the heart awaits from love a sign,
my rank ingratitude, my bitter past? or call the night when day begins to smile,
not knowing if another day will shine?  
  Again I feel the impenetrable shadows
You wish to learn the cause of this dejection shrouding the soul with the thick veils of
delirium of despair that anguish wove? night:
You wish to know the wherefore of such a mere bud only, not a lovely flower,
sorrows, because it's destitute of air and light 
and why, a young soul, I sing not of love?  
  Behold them: my poor verses, my damned
Oh, may you never know why! For the brood
reason and sorrow suckled each and every brat!
brings melancholy but may set you Oh, they know well to what they owe their
laughing. being,
Down with my corpse into the grave shall and maybe they themselves will tell you
go what.

another corpse that's buried in my stuffing!

 
Something impossible, ambition, madness,
dreams of the soul, a passion and its throes 
Oh, drink the nectar that life has to offer
and let the bitter dregs in peace repose!
 
THE FLOWERS OF HEIDELBERG
(A los Flores de Heidelberg )

  And tell of that day

Go to my country, go, O foreign flowers,
sown by the traveler along the road, when he collected you along the way
and under that blue heaven among the ruins of a feudal castle,
that watches over my loved ones, on the banks of the Neckar, or in a forest nook.
recount the devotion Recount the words he said
the pilgrim nurses for his native sod! as, with great care,
Go and say  say that when dawn between the pages of a worn-out book
opened your chalices for the first time he pressed the flexible petals that he took.
beside the icy Neckar,  
you saw him silent beside you, Carry, carry, O flowers,
thinking of her constant vernal clime. my love to my loved ones,
  peace to my country and its fecund loam,
Say that when dawn faith to its men and virtue to its women,
which steals your aroma health to the gracious beings
was whispering playful love songs to your young that dwell within the sacred paternal home.
sweet petals, he, too, murmured  
canticles of love in his native tongue; When you reach that shore,
that in the morning when the sun first traces deposit the kiss I gave you
the topmost peak of Koenigssthul in gold on the wings of the wind above
and with a mild warmth raises that with the wind it may rove
to life again the valley, the glade, the forest, and I may kiss all that I worship, honor and love!
he hails that sun, still in its dawning,  
that in his country in full zenith blazes. But O you will arrive there, flowers,
  and you will keep perhaps your vivid hues;
but far from your native heroic earth
to which you owe your life and worth,
your fragrances you will lose!
For fragrance is a spirit that never can forsake
and never forgets the sky that saw its birth.

THE SONG OF MARIA CLARA, 1887

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin)
  For the wife keeps home faithfully,
Sweet the hours in the native country, Inculcates love in her children
where friendly shines the sun above! For virtue, knowledge and country.
Life is the breeze that sweeps the meadows; When the evening brings repose,
tranquil is death; most tender, love. On returning joy awaits you,
  And if fate is adverse, the wife,
Warm kisses on the lips are playing Shall know the task to continue.
as we awake to mother's face:  
the arms are seeking to embrace her, (Chorus)
the eyes are smiling as they gaze.  
  MAIDENS:
How sweet to die for the native country, Hail! Hail! Praise to labour,
where friendly shines the sun above! Of the country wealth and vigor!
Death is the breeze for him who has For it brow serene's exalted,
no country, no mother, and no love! It's her blood, life, and ardor.
If some youth would show his love
Hymn to Labor, 1888 Labor his faith will sustain :
(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) Only a man who struggles and works
  Will his offspring know to maintain.
CHORUS:  
  (Chorus)
For the Motherland in war,  
For the Motherland in peace, CHILDREN:
Will the Filipino keep watch, Teach, us ye the laborious work
He will live until life will cease! To pursue your footsteps we wish,
  For tomorrow when country calls us
MEN: We may be able your task to finish.
Now the East is glowing with light, And on seeing us the elders will say :
Go! To the field to till the land, "Look, they're worthy 'f their sires of yore!"
For the labour of man sustains Incense does not honor the dead
Fam'ly, home and Motherland. As does a son with glory and valor.
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,
 TO MY MUSE
(A Mi, 1890, incl. in La Solidaridad)

   
No more is the muse invoked; Flee also, muse! Go forth
the lyre is out of fashion; and seek a region more fine,
no poet cares to use it; for my country vows to give you
by other things are the dreamy fetters for your laurels,
young inspired to passion. a dark jail for your shrine.
   
Now if imagination If to suppress the truth
demands some poesies, be a shame, an impiety,
no Helicon is invoked; would it not then be madness
one simply asks the garçon to keep you by my side
for a cup of coffee please. deprived of liberty?
   
Instead of tender stanzas Why sing when destiny calls
that move the heart’s sympathy, to serious meditation,
one now writes a poem when a hurricane is roaring,
with a pen of steel, when to her sons complains
a joke and an irony. the Filipino nation?
   
Muse that in the past And why sing if my song
inspired me to sing of the throes will merely resound with a moaning
of love: go and repose. that will arouse no one,
What I need is a sword, the world being sick and tired
rivers of gold, and acrid prose. of someone else’s groaning?
   
I have a need to reason, For what, when among the people
to meditate, to offer who criticize and maltreat me,
combat, sometimes to weep; arid the soul, the lips frigid,
for he who would love much there’s not a heart that beats
has also much to suffer. with mine, no heart to meet me?
   
Gone are the days of peace, Let sleep in the depths of oblivion
the days of love’s gay chorus, all that I feel, for there
it well should be, where the breath
when the flowers were enough cannot mix it with a rhyme
to alleviate the soul that evaporates in the air.
of its sufferings and sorrows.  
  As sleep in the deep abyss
One by one from my side the monsters of the sea,
go those I loved so much: so let my tribulations,
this one dead, that one married; my fancies and my lyrics
for fate seals with disaster slumber, buried in me.
everything that I touch.
  when, faith being faded, broken the sword,
I know well that your favors I cannot for my country die.
you lavish without measure  
only during that time You’ll give me the mourning zither whose
of flowers and first loves chords vibrate with elegiac strains
unclouded by displeasure. to sweeten the sorrows of my nation
  and muffle the clanking of her chains.
Many years have passed  
since with the ardent heat But if with laurel triumph crowns
of a kiss you burned my brow our efforts, and my country, united,
That kiss has now turned cold, like a queen of the East arises,
I have even forgotten it! a white pearl rescued from the sty:
  return then and intone with vigor
But, before departing, say the sacred hymn of a new existence,
that to your sublime address and we shall sing that strain in chorus “
ever responded in me though in the sepulcher we lie.
a song for those who grieve  
and a challenge for those who oppress.
 
But, sacred imagination, once again
to warm my fantasy you will come nigh

KUNDIMAN
Now mute indeed are tongue and heart:
love shies away, joy stands apart.
Neglected by its leaders and defeated,
the country was subdued and it submitted.
But O the sun will shine again!
Itself the land shall disenchain;
and once more round the world with growing praise
shall sound the name of the Tagalog race.
We shall pour out our blood in a great flood
to liberate the parent sod;
but till that day arrives for which we weep,
love shall be mute, desire shall sleep.
 WATER AND FIRE
(EL AGUA Y EL FUEGO)

Water are we, you say, and yourselves fire,

so let us be what we are
and co-exist without ire,
and may no conflagration ever find us at war.

but, rather, fused together by cunning science

within the cauldrons of the ardent breast,
without rage, without defiance,
do we form steam, fifth element indeed:
progress, life, enlightenment, and speed!
 SONG OF THE WANDERER/TRAVELER
(EL CANTO DEL VIAJERO)
  shall return perhaps to his shore;
Dry leaf that flies at random and shall find only ice and ruin,
till it's seized by a wind from above: perished loves, and gravesnothing more.
so lives on earth the wanderer,  
without north, without soul, without country Begone, wanderer! In your own country,
or love! a stranger now and alone!
  Let the others sing of loving,
Anxious, he seeks joy everywhere who are happybut you, begone!
and joy eludes him and flees,  
a vain shadow that mocks his yearning Begone, wanderer! Look not behind you
and for which he sails the seas. nor grieve as you leave again.
  Begone, wanderer: stifle your sorrows!
Impelled by a hand invisible, the world laughs at another's pain.
he shall wander from place to place;  
memories shall keep him company
of loved ones, of happy days.
 
A tomb perhaps in the desert,
a sweet refuge, he shall discover,
by his country and the world forgotten
Rest quiet: the torment is over.
 
And they envy the hapless wanderer
as across the earth he persists!
Ah, they know not of the emptiness
in his soul, where no love exists.
 
The pilgrim shall return to his country,

JOSEPHINE
Josephine, Josephine
 Who to these shores have come
Looking for a nest, a home,
Like a wandering swallow;
If your fate is taking you
To Japan, China or Shanghai,
Don't forget that on these shores
A heart for you beats high.
 

HYMN TO TALISAY
            land, sea and air
Hail, Talisay, shall dominate!
firm and faithful,  
ever forward The sandy beach of Dapitan
march elate! and the rocks of its lofty mountain
  are your throne. O sacred asylum
You, victorious, where I passed my childhood days!
the elements  
In your valley covered with flowers no banca in the world can catch!
and shaded by fruitful orchards,  
our minds received their formation, We study the problems of science
both body and soul, by your grace. and the history of the nation.
  We speak some three or four languages;
We are children, children born late, faith and reason we span.
but our spirits are fresh and healthy;  
strong men shall we be tomorrow Our hands can wield at the same time
that can guard a family right. the knife, the pen and the spade,
  the picket, the rifle, the sword
We are children that nothing frightens, companions of a brave man.
not the waves, nor the storm, nor the thunder;  
the arm ready, the young face tranquil, Long live luxuriant Talisay!
in a fix we shall know how to fight. Our voices exalt you in chorus,
  clear star, dear treasure of childhood,
We ransack the sand in our frolic; a childhood you guide and please.
through the caves and the thickets we ramble;  
our houses are built upon rocks; In the struggles that await the grown man,
our arms reach far and wide. subject to pain and sorrow,
  your memory shall be his amulet;
No darkness, and no dark night,
that we fear, no savage tempest;
if the devil himself comes forward,
we shall catch him, dead or alive!
 
Talisayon, the people call us:
a great soul in a little body;
in Dapitan and all its region
Talisay has no match!
 
Our reservoir is unequalled;
our precipice is a deep chasm;
and when we go rowing, our bancas

MY RETREAT
(Mi Retiro)

Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand descends between huge bowlders, washes it with its
and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf, spray,
I planted my humble hut beneath a pleasant orchard, donating a current of water through makeshift
seeking in the still serenity of the woods bamboo pipes
repose to my intellect and silence to my grief. that in the silent night is melody and music
  and crystalline nectar in the noon heat of the day.
Its roof is fragile nipa; its floor is brittle bamboo;  
its beams and posts are rough as rough-hewn wood If the sky is serene, meekly flows the spring,
can be; strumming on its invisible zither unceasingly;
of no worth, it is certain, is my rustic cabin; but come the time of the rains, and an impetuous
but on the lap of the eternal mount it slumbers torrent
and night and day is lulled by the crooning of the spills over rocks and chasms hoarse, foaming and
sea. aboil
  to hurl itself with a frenzied roaring toward the sea.
The overflowing brook, that from the shadowy  
jungle The barking of the dog, the twittering of the birds,
the hoarse voice of the kalaw are all that I hear; cast out of the world where once I dwelt: such is my
there is no boastful man, no nuisance of a neighbor rare
to impose himself on my mind or to disturb my good fortune; and Providence be praised for my
passage; condition:
only the forests and the sea do I have near. a disregarded pebble that craves nothing but moss
  to hide from all the treasure that in myself I bear.
The sea, the sea is everything! Its sovereign mass  
brings to me atoms of a myriad faraway lands; I live with the remembrance of those that I have
its bright smile animates me in the limpid mornings; loved
and when at the end of day my faith has proven and hear their names still spoken, who haunt my
futile, memory;
my heart echoes the sound of its sorrow on the some already are dead, others have long forgotten
sands. but what does it matter? I live remembering the past
  and no one can ever take the past away from me.
At night it is a mystery!  Its diaphanous element  
is carpeted with thousands and thousands of lights It is my faithful friend that never turns against me,
that climb; that cheers my spirit when my spirit’s a lonesome
the wandering breeze is cool, the firmament is wraith,
brilliant, that in my sleepless nights keeps watch with me and
the waves narrate with many a sigh to the mild wind prays
histories that were lost in the dark night of time. with me, and shares with me my exile and my cabin,
  and, when all doubt, alone infuses me with faith.
‘Tis said they tell of the first morning on the earth,  
of the first kiss with which the sun inflamed her Faith do I have, and I believe the day will shine
breast, when the Idea shall defeat brute force as well;
when multitudes of beings materialized from nothing and after the struggle and the lingering agony
to populate the abyss and the overhanging summits a voice more eloquent and happier than my own
and all the places where that quickening kiss was will then know how to utter victory’s canticle.
pressed.  
  I see the heavens shining, as flawless and refulgent
But when the winds rage in the darkness of the night as in the days that saw my first illusions start;
and the unquiet waves commence their agony, I feel the same breeze kissing my autumnal brow,
across the air move cries that terrify the spirit, the same that once enkindled my fervent enthusiasm
a chorus of voices praying, a lamentation that seems and turned the blood ebullient within my youthful
to come from those who, long ago, drowned in the heart.
sea.  
  Across the fields and rivers of my native town
Then do the mountain ranges on high reverberate; perhaps has travelled the breeze that now I breathe
the trees stir far and wide, by a fit of trembling by chance;
seized; perhaps it will give back to me what once I gave it:
the cattle moan; the dark depths of the forest the sighs and kisses of a person idolized
resound; and the sweet secrets of a virginal romance.
their spirits say that they are on their way to the  
plain, On seeing the same moon, as silvery as before,
summoned by the dead to a mortuary feast. I feel within me the ancient melancholy revive;
  a thousand memories of love and vows awaken:
The wild night hisses, hisses, confused and a patio, an azotea, a beach, a leafy bower;
terrifying; silences and sighs, and blushes of delight
one sees the sea afire with flames of green and blue;  
but calm is re-established with the approach of A butterfly athirst for radiances and colors,
dawning dreaming of other skies and of a larger strife,
and forthwith an intrepid little fishing vessel I left, scarcely a youth, my land and my affections,
begins to navigate the weary waves anew. and vagrant eveywhere, with no qualms, with no
  terrors,
So pass the days of my life in my obscure retreat; squandered in foreign lands the April of my life.
  somewhat serious I find you; and yet your face
And afterwards, when I desired, a weary swallow, beloved,
to go back to the nest of those for whom I care, if now no longer as merry, if now no longer as vivid,
suddenly fiercely roared a violent hurricane now bear the superscription of fidelity.
and I found my wings broken, my dwelling place  
demolished, You offer me, O illusions, the cup of consolation;
faith now sold to others, and ruins everywhere. you come to reawaken the years of youthful mirth;
  hurricane, I thank you; winds of heaven, I thank you
Hurled upon a rock of the country I adore; that in good hour suspended by uncertain flight
the future ruined; no home, no health to bring me to bring me down to the bosom of my native earth.
cheer;  
you come to me anew, dreams of rose and gold, Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand
of my entire existence the solitary treasure, and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf,
convictions of a youth that was healthy and sincere. I found in my land a refuge under a pleasant orchard,
  and in its shadowy forests, serene tranquility,
No more are you, like once, full of fire and life, repose to my intellect and silence to my grief.
offering a thousand crowns to immortality;

MY LAST FAREWELL
(Mi Ultimo Adios)
             For all who suffered torment unequaled,
Farewell, beloved Country, treasured region of the sun, For grieving mothers who in bitterness cry,
Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our vanquished Eden! For orphans and widows, for prisoners in torture,
To you I gladly surrender this melancholy life; And for yourself to see your redemption at last.
And were it brighter, fresher, gaudier,  
Even then I’d give it to you, to you alone would then I give. And when the burial ground is shrouded in dark night,
  And there alone, only the departed remain in vigil,
In fields of battle, deliriously fighting, Disturb not their rest, nor their secrets,
Others give you their lives, without doubt, without regret; And should you hear chords from a zither or harp,
Where there’s cypress, laurel or lily, 'Tis I, O land beloved, 'tis I, to you I sing !
On a plank or open field, in combat or cruel martyrdom,  
If the home or country asks, it's all the same--it matters not. And when my grave, then by all forgotten,
  has not a cross nor stone to mark its place,
I die when I see the sky unfurls its colors Let men plow and with a spade disperse it,
And at last after a cloak of darkness announces the day; And before my ashes return to nothing,
If you need scarlet to tint your dawn, May they be the dust that carpets your fields.
Paint with my blood, pour it as the moment comes,  
And may it be gilded by a reflection of the heaven’s new-born light. Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion.
My dreams, even as a child, Your air, your space, your valleys I will cross.
  I will be vibrant music to your ears,
My dreams, when a young man in the prime of life, Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and song,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the eastern seas, Ever echoing the essence of my faith.
Dry those dark eyes, raise that forehead high,  
Without frown, without wrinkle, without stain of shame. Land that I love, sorrow of my sorrows,
  Adored Filipinas, hear my last good-bye.
My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire, There I leave you all, my parents, my beloved.
Is for this soul that will soon depart to cry out: Salud! I go where there are no slaves, hangmen nor oppressors,
To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to give you flight, Where faith does not kill, where the one who reigns is God.
To die to give you life, to rest under your sky,  
And in your enchanted land forever sleep. Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters, fragments of my soul,
  Childhood friends in the home now gone,
If upon my grave one day you may behold, Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome day;
Amidst the dense grass, a simple lowly flower, Goodbye, sweet stranger, my friend, my joy;
Place it upon your lips, and my soul you’ll kiss, Farewell, loved ones. To die is to rest.
And on my brow may I feel, under the cold tomb,
The tenderness of your touch, the warmth of your breath.
 
Let the moon see me in soft and tranquil light,
Let the dawn burst forth its fleeting radiance,
Let the wind moan with its gentle murmur,
And should a bird descend and rest on my cross,
Let it sing its canticle of peace.
 
Let the burning sun evaporate the rain,
And with the struggle behind, towards the sky may they turn pure;
Let a friend mourn my early demise,
And in the serene afternoon, when someone prays for me,
O Country, pray that God will also grant me rest!
 
Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died,
 A FRAGMENT
To my Creator I sing,
to my All-Merciful Lord, the Omnipotent,
who hushed my suffering
and his sweet solace sent
to ease me while in tribulation I went.

You, with authority,

said: Live; and I myself to life came forth;
free will you gave to me
and a soul that must find worth
in goodness, like a compass needle set north.

You willed my birth to be

of honorable parents, a house of honor;
and a country you granted me:
rich, fair to all who won her,
though fortune and prudence may be scarce upon her.