Sa Aking Mga Kabata

Kapagka ang baya'y sadyáng umiibig'

Sa kanyáng salitáng kaloob ng langit,
Sanlang kalayaan nasa ring masapit
Katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid.

Pagka't ang salita'y isang kahatulan

Sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharián,
At ang isáng tao'y katulad, kabagay
Ng alin mang likha noong kalayaán.

Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salitâ

Mahigit sa hayop at malansáng isdâ,
Kayâ ang marapat pagyamaning kusà
Na tulad sa ináng tunay na nagpalà.

Ang wikang Tagalog tulad din sa Latin

Sa Inglés, Kastilà at salitang anghel,
Sapagka't ang Poong maalam tumingín
Ang siyang naggawad, nagbigay sa atin.

Ang salita nati'y huwad din sa iba

Na may alfabeto at sariling letra,
Na kaya nawalá'y dinatnan ng sigwâ
Ang lunday sa lawà noóng dakong una.
A La Juventud Filipina
To the Filipino Youth
Hold high the brow serene,
O youth, where now you stand;
Let the bright sheen
Of your grace be seen,
Fair hope of my fatherland!

Come now, thou genius grand,

And bring down inspiration;
With thy mighty hand,
Swifter than the wind's violation,
Raise the eager mind to higher station.

Come down with pleasing light

Of art and science to the fight,
O youth, and there untie
The chains that heavy lie,
Your spirit free to blight.
See how in flaming zone
Amid the shadows thrown,
The Spaniard'a holy hand
A crown's resplendent band
Proffers to this Indian land.

Thou, who now wouldst rise

On wings of rich emprise,
Seeking from Olympian skies
Songs of sweetest strain,
Softer than ambrosial rain;
Thou, whose voice divine
Rivals Philomel's refrain
And with varied line
Through the night benign
Frees mortality from pain;

Thou, who by sharp strife

Wakest thy mind to life ;
And the memory bright
Of thy genius' light
Makest immortal in its strength ;

And thou, in accents clear

Of Phoebus, to Apelles dear ;
Or by the brush's magic art
 Takest from nature's store a part,
To fig it on the simple canvas' length ;

Go forth, and then the sacred fire

Of thy genius to the laurel may aspire ;
To spread around the fame,
And in victory acclaim,
Through wider spheres the human name.

Day, O happy day,

Fair Filipinas, for thy land!
So bless the Power to-day
That places in thy way
This favor and this fortune grand !
 Through Education
Our Motherland Receives Light
The vital breath of prudent Education
Instills a virtue of enchanting power;
She lifts the motherland to highest station
And endless dazzling glories on her shower.
And as the zephyr's gentle exhalation
Revives the matrix of the fragrant flower,
So education multiplies her gifts of grace;
With prudent hand imparts them to the human race.

For her a mortal-man will gladly part

With all he has; will give his calm repose;
For her are born all science and all art,
That brows of men with laurel fair enclose.
As from the towering mountain's lofty heart
The purest current of the streamlet flows,
So education without stint or measure gives
Security and peace to lands in which she lives.

Where Education reigns on lofty seat

Youth blossoms forth with vigor and agility;
He error subjugates with solid feet,
And is exalted by conceptions of nobility.
She breaks the neck of vice and its deceit;
Black crime turns pale at Her hostility;
The barbarous nations She knows how to tame,
From savages creates heroic fame.

And as the spring doth sustenance bestow

On all the plants, on bushes in the mead,
Its placid plenty goes to overflow
And endlessly with lavish love to feed
The banks by which it wanders, gliding slow,
Supplying beauteous nature's every need;
So he who prudent Education doth procure
The towering heights of honor will secure.

From out his lips the water, crystal pure,

Of perfect virtue shall not cease to go.
With careful doctrines of his faith made sure,
The powers of evil he will overthrow,
 Like foaming waves that never long endure,
But perish on the shore at every blow;
And from his good example other men shall learn
Their upward steps toward the heavenly paths to turn.

Within the breast of wretched humankind

She lights the living flame of goodness bright;
The hands of fiercest criminal doth bind;
And in those breasts will surely pour delight
Which seek her mystic benefits to find,
Those souls She sets aflame with love of right.
It is a noble fully-rounded Education
That gives to life its surest consolation.

And as the mighty rock aloft may tower

Above the center of the stormy deep
In scorn of storm, or fierce Sou'wester's power,
Or fury of the waves that raging seep,
Until, their first mad hatred spent, they cower,
And, tired at last, subside and fall asleep, --
So he that takes wise Education by the hand,
Invincible shall guide the reigns of motherland.

On sapphires shall his service be engraved,

A thousand honors to him by his land be granted:
For in their bosoms will his noble sons have saved
Luxuriant flowers his virtue had transplanted:
And by the love of goodness ever lived,
The lords and governors will see implanted
To endless days, the Christian Education,
Within their noble, faith-enrapture nation.

And as in early morning we behold

The ruby sun pour forth resplendent rays;
And lovely dawn her scarlet and her gold,
Her brilliant colors all about her sprays;
So skillful noble Teaching doth unfold
To living minds the joy of virtuous ways.
She offers our dear motherland the light
That leads us to immortal glory's height.
 Song of Maria Clara
Sweet the hours in the native country,
where friendly shines the sun above!
Life is the breeze that sweeps the meadows;
tranquil is death; most tender, love.

Warm kisses on the lips are playing

as we awake to mother's face:
the arms are seeking to embrace her,
the eyes are smiling as they gaze.

How sweet to die for the native country,

where friendly shines the sun above!
Death is the breeze for him who has
no country, no mother, and no love!
 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.
 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 the 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 thy mystic land to sleep through eternity!

If over my tomb someday, 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 thy 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 your 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, disturb not the mystery:
If thou 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 thy 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.