Mga Tula Ni Rizal

Rizal's Poetry The Webmaster would invite you to share any poetry that

is missing from this section either in the original Spanish or in translation (in Pilipino, in English, or in any

other dialect or language). Thank you.

Note: Many of Rizal's Poems (as well as other writings and other features) may be found by clicking

HERE.

Note: Many of Rizal's Poems translated into Italian by Vasco Caini may be found by clicking HERE.

Rizal's Poetry

Mi Ultimo Adiós<English Translation><German Translation><Pilipino Translation>

Sa Aking mga Kabata<To My Fellow Children>

A Fragment

Un Recuerdo A Mi Pueblo

A Tribute to My Town

Felictación

Felicitation

Flower Among Flowers

Goodby to Leonor

11/25/2010 The Life and Writings of Dr. José Rizal

joserizal.info/Writings/…/poetry.lwp.htm 1/67

Hymn to Labor

Dalit sa Paggawa

Hymn to Talisay

Kundiman (Tagalog)Kundiman (translation in English)

MI PRIMERA INSPIRACIÓNMy First Inspiration

Mi RetiroMy Retreat (English Translation)

Canto Del Viajero

Song of the Wanderer

Awit ng Manlalakbay

Awit Ng Manlalakbay

Canto de María ClaraThe Song of Maria Clara (English Translation)

Ang Awit ni Maria Clara (Tagalog)

Me Piden VersosThey Ask Me for Verses! (English Translation)

Pinatutula Ako

To Miss C. O. y R.

To My --

Al Niño Jesús

To the Child Jesus

Sa Sanggol na si Jesus

A las flores de HeidelbergTo the Flowers of Heidelberg (English Translation)

Sa Mga Bulaklak ng Heidelberg (Tagalog)



A La Juventud FilipinaTo the Philippine Youth (English Translation)

Sa Kabataang Pilipino (Tagalog)

To the Philippines

To the Virgin Mary

Sa Mahal na Birhen Maria

Water and Fire

Por La Educación (Recibe Lustre La Patria)

Education Gives Luster to the Motherland (English)

Alianza Intima Entre La Religión Y La Education

The Intimate Alliance Between Religion and Education

«««« »»»»

Mi Ultimo AdiósOriginal Version by José Rizal

Adiós, Patria adorada, región del sol querida,Perla del Mar de Oriente, nuestro perdido edén,A darte voy, alegre, la triste, mustia vida;Y fuera más brillante, más fresca, más florida,También por ti la diera, la diera por tí bien.En campos de batalla, luchando con delirio,Otros te dan sus vidas, sin dudas, sin pesar.El sitio nada importa: ciprés, laurel o lirio,Cadalso o campo abierto, combate o cruel martirio.La mismo es si lo piden la Patria y el hogar.

Yo muero, cuando veo que el cielo se coloraY al fin anuncia el d ía, tras lóbrego capuz;Si grana necesitas, para teñir tu aurora,i Vierte la sangre mía, derrámala en buen hora,Y dórela un reflejo de su naciente luz!

Mis sueños, cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,Mis sueños cuando jóven, ya lleno de vigor,



Fueron el verte un día, joya del Mar de Oriente,Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor.

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo.i Salud! te grita el alma que pronto va a partir;i Salud! iah, que es hermoso caer por darte vuelo,Morir por darte vida, morir bajo tu cielo,Y en tu encantada tierra la eternidad dormir!

Si sobre mi sepulcro vieres brotar, un día,Entre la espesa yerba, sencilla humilde flor,Acércala a tus labios y besa el alma mía,Y sienta yo en mi frente, bajo la tumba fría,De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja a la luna verme, con luz tranquila y uave;Deja que el alba envíe su resplandor fugaz;Deja gemir al viento, con su murmullo grave;Y si desciende y posa sobre mi cruz un ave,Deja que el ave entone su cántico de paz.

Deja que el sol, ardiendo, las lluvias evaporeY al cielo tornen puras, con mi clamor en pos;Deja que un ser ami go mi fin temprano Ilore;Yen las serenas tardes, cuando por mí alguien ore,Ora también, oh patria, por mi descanso a Dios.

Ora por todos cuantos murieron sin ventura;Por cuantos padecieron tormentos sin igual;Por nuestras pobres madres, que gimen su amargura;Por huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura,Y ora por tí, que veas tu redención final.

Y cuando, en noche oscura, se envuelva el cementerio,Y solos sólo muertos queden velando allí,No turbes su reproso, no turbes el misterio:Tal vez acordes oigas de cítara o salterio;Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a tí.

Y cuando ya mi tumba, de todos olvidada,



No tenga cruz ni piedra que marquen su lugar,Deja que la are el hombre, la esparza con la azada,Y mis cenizas, antes que vuelvan a la nada,En polvo de tu alfombra que vayan a formar.

Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido;Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré;Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oído:Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido,Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fe.

Mi Pátria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adiós.Ahi, te dejo todo: mis padres, mis amores.Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores;Donde la fe no mata, donde el que reina es Dios.

Adiós, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,Amigos de la infancia, en el perdido hogar;Dad gracias, que descanso del fatigoso día;Adíos, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría;Adíos, queridos seres. Morir es descansar.

José Rizal

===My Last Farewell

(A Translation of Mi Ultimo Adios by Charles Derbyshire)

Farewell, dear Fatherland, clime of the sun caress'dPearl of the Orient seas, our Eden lost!,Gladly now I go to give thee this faded life's best,And were it brighter, fresher, or more blestStill would I give it thee, nor count the cost .

On the field of battle, 'mid the frenzy of fight,Others have given their lives, without doubt or heed;The place matters not-cypress or laurel or lily white,Scaffold or open plain, combat or martyrdom's plight,It is ever the same, to serve our home and country's need.



I die just when I see the dawn break,Through the gloom of night, to herald the day;And if color is lacking my blood thou shalt take,Pour'd out at need for thy dear sakeTo dye with its crimson the waking ray.

My dreams, when life first opened to me,My dreams, when the hopes of youth beat high,Were to see thy lov'd face, O gem of the Orient seaFrom gloom and grief, from care and sorrow free;No blush on thy brow, no tear in thine eye.

Dream of my life, my living and burning desire,All hail ! cries the soul that is now to take flight;All hail ! And sweet it is for thee to expire ;To die for thy sake, that thou mayst aspire;And sleep in thy bosom eternity's long night.

If over my grave some day thou seest grow,In the grassy sod, a humble flower,Draw it to thy lips and kiss my soul so,While I may feel on my brow in the cold tomb belowThe touch of thy tenderness, thy breath's warm power.Let the moon beam over me soft and serene,Let the dawn shed over me its radiant flashes,Let the wind with sad lament over me keen;And if on my cross a bird should be seen,Let it trill there its hymn of peace to my ashes.Let the sun draw the vapors up to the sky,And heavenward in purity bear my tardy protestLet some kind soul o 'er my untimely fate sigh,And in the still evening a prayer be lifted on highFrom thee, 0 my country, that in God I may rest.

Pray for all those that hapless have died,For all who have suffered the unmeasur'd pain;For our mothers that bitterly their woes have cried,For widows and orphans, for captives by torture triedAnd then for thyself that redemption thou mayst gain.

And when the dark night wraps the graveyard around



With only the dead in their vigil to seeBreak not my repose or the mystery profoundAnd perchance thou mayst hear a sad hymn resound'T is I, O my country, raising a song unto thee.

And even my grave is remembered no moreUnmark'd by never a cross nor a stoneLet the plow sweep through it, the spade turn it o'erThat my ashes may carpet earthly floor,Before into nothingness at last they are blown.

Then will oblivion bring to me no careAs over thy vales and plains I sweep;Throbbing and cleansed in thy space and airWith color and light, with song and lament I fare,Ever repeating the faith that I keep.

My Fatherland ador'd, that sadness to my sorrow lendsBeloved Filipinas, hear now my last good-by!I give thee all: parents and kindred and friendsFor I go where no slave before the oppressor bends,Where faith can never kill, and God reigns e'er on high!

Farewell to you all, from my soul torn away,Friends of my childhood in the home dispossessed!Give thanks that I rest from the wearisome day!Farewell to thee, too, sweet friend that lightened my way;Beloved creatures all, farewell! In death there is rest!

=====

Letztes Lebewohl(German Translation by Weilheim Muster)

Lebe denn wohl, Vaterland, liebes, Kind du der Sonne,Perle des östlichen Meeres, du unser verlorenes Eden!Freudig will ich mein düsteres, trauriges Dasein dir opfern!Auch wenn es strahlender, frischer oder blühender wäre,Ja, ich gäb' es für dich, für deine Würde und Größe!

Auf den Schlachtfeldern kämpfen andere, und sie frohlocken,opfern ihr Leben ohne Zögern und ohne Bedauern.



opfern ihr Leben ohne Zögern und ohne Bedauern.Gleich gilt der Ort: Ob Lorbeer, Lilie oder Zypresse,Blutgerüst oder Feld, Schlacht oder grausame Marter,eins ist es uns, wenn Vaterland oder Heim es verlangen.

Sterbend seh' ich, wie sich die Himmel rötlich verfärben,endlich die Vorboten strahlenden Tages nach düsterem Dunkel.Brauchst du Scharlach für deinen Morgen, laß mich denn sterbenund vergieße mein Blut, in Gottes Namen gescheh' es:nur ein Schimmer des werdenden Lichtes soll es vergolden.

Schon das Kind, ein Jüngling noch nicht, erging sich in Träumen,und es klammerte sich an sie der kraftvolle Jüngling:Eines Tags dich zu sehen, Perle des östlichen Meeres,trocken die schwarzen Augen, die glatte Stirne erhoben,ohne die Röte der Scham, der Blick nicht umschattet und finster.

Traum meines Lebens bist du und meine glühende Sehnsucht!Bald wird die Seele von hinnen scheiden, sie wünscht deine Größe,jubelt dir zu, denn schön ist's zu fallen, um dich zu beflügelnund für dein Leben zu sterben, unter dem endlosen Himmel,auch in deiner verzauberten Erde ewig zu schlafen.

Sollte auf meinem Hügel eine bescheidene Blumezwischen dem dicht geschlossenen schlichten Grase erblühen,führ' sie an deine Lippen, berühre so meine Seele:Und ich möge auf meiner Stirn in der kalten Erdenoch den Hauch deiner Zärtlichkeit spüren, den Hauch deiner Wärme.

Möge der Mond mit stillem und sanftem Lichte mich sehen,möge die Morgenröte den flüchtigen Schimmer mir sendenund die Winde murmelnd über den Hügel hin hauchen.Doch will flüchtig auf meinem Grabkreuz ein Vogel dann ruhen,laß' ihn dort ruhen: Es sollen Friedensgesänge ertönen.

Aber der Regen verdampfe rasch in der glühenden Sonne,rein kehrt das Wasser zum Himmel, und meine Rufe, sie folgen.Möge doch auch ein Wesen mein frühes Ende beweinen!Wenn dann ein Mensch für mich betet am schönen, schweigendenAbend,Heimat, bete auch du für meine ewige Ruhe!



Bete dann auch für alle Menschen, die glücklos verstarben,bete für alle, die Martern ohnegleichen erlitten,bete für unsre armen Mütter, die bitterlich weinen,bete für Waisen und Witwen, für den gefolterten Häftling,bete für dich, auf daß du endlich Erlösung erlangest.

Und wenn Nacht den Kirchhof umzieht mit ihrem Schweigenund nur die Toten auf dem Gottesacker mehr wachen:Störe du nicht ihre Ruhe und störe nicht ihr Geheimnis!Dann wirst du vielleicht Psalteriumklänge vernehmen:Ich bin es dann, geliebtes Vaterland - ich will dich preisen!

Wenn mein Grab schon längst von allen Menschen vergessenund auch kein Kreuz oder Stein die Stelle des Grabes bezeichnet,nun, so soll sich ein Mensch mit Pflug, mit der Haue dort mühen,und bevor sie zurückkehrt ins Nichts, soll meine AscheStaub sein, Staub auf deinem herrlich grünenden Teppich.

Dann ist es gleich, wenn du mich, den Toten, schon lange vergessen.Durch deine Luft, deinen Raum, deine Täler fliege ich weiter.Lausche dann einmal: Ich bin dir eine klingende Note,Düfte, Lichter, Farben, Geräusch, Gesang oder Stöhnen,die den tieferen Sinn meines Glaubens an dich wiederholen.

Mein vergöttertes, teures Vaterland, Schmerz meiner Schmerzen -hört mein letztes Lebwohl, Philippinen, geliebte!Ich hinterlasse euch alles, die Eltern und all meine Teuren,ich geh' ins Land ohne Sklaven, Henker, Tyrannen,wo der Herrscher Gott ist und wo der Glaube nicht tötet.

Lebt denn wohl, ihr Eltern, Geschwister, Teil meiner Seele,Freunde der Kindheit, lebt ihr auch wohl am verlorenen Herde!Dankt, daß ich von Mühen und schweren Tagen nun ruhe!Lebe du wohl, süße Fremde, Freundin du mir, meine Freude,lebt alle wohl, geliebteste Wesen: Sterben heißt schlafen!

=====

Ang Huling PaalamPAHIMAKAS ni Dr. José RizalSa salin ni Andres Bonifacio



Pinipintuho kong Bayan ay paalam,Lupang iniirog ng sikat ng araw,mutyang mahalaga sa dagat Silangan,kaluwalhatiang sa ami'y pumanaw.Masayang sa iyo'y aking idudulotang lanta kong buhay na lubhang malungkot;maging maringal man at labis alindogsa kagalingan mo ay aking ding handog.

Sa pakikidigma at pamimiyapisang alay ng iba'y ang buhay na kipkip,walang agam-agam, maluag sa dibdib,matamis sa puso at di ikahapis.

Saan man mautas ay dikailangan,cipres o laurel, lirio ma'y patunganpakikipaghamok, at ang bibitayan,yaon ay gayon din kung hiling ng Bayan.

Ako'y mamamatay, ngayong namamalasna sa silinganan ay namamanaagyaong maligayang araw na sisikatsa likod ng luksang nagtabing na ulap.

Ang kulay na pula kung kinakailanganna maitina sa iyong liway-way,dugo ko'y isabong at siyang ikinangng kislap ng iyong maningning na ilaw

Ang aking adhika sapul magkaisipng kasalukuyang bata pang maliit,ay ang tanghaling ka at minsan masilipsa dagat Silangan hiyas na marikit.

Natuyo ang luhang sa mata'y nunukal,taas na ang noo't walang kapootan,walang bakas kunot ng kapighatiangabahid man dungis niyong kahihiyan.

Sa kabuhayang ko ang laging gunitamaningas na aking ninanasa-nasa



ay guminhawa ka ang hiyas ng diwahingang papanaw ngayong biglang-bigla.pag hingang papanaw ngayong biglang-bigla.

Ikaw'y guminhawa laking kagandahangakoy malugmok, at ikaw ay matanghal,hiniga'y malagot, mabuhay ka lamangbangkay ko'y masilong sa iyong Kalangitan.

Kung sa libingan ko'y tumubong mamalassa malagong damo mahinhing bulaklak,sa mga labi mo'y mangyayaring itapat,sa kaluluwa ko hatik ay igawad.

At sa aking noo nawa'y iparamdam,sa lamig ng lupa ng aking libingan,ang init ng iyong paghingang dalisayat simoy ng iyong paggiliw na tunay.

Bayaang ang buwan sa aki'y ititigang iwanag niyang lamlam at tahimik,liwayway bayaang sa aki'y ihatidmagalaw na sinag at hanging hagibis.

Kung sakasakaling bumabang humantongsa krus ko'y dumapo kahit isang ibondoon ay bayaan humuning hinahonat dalitin niya payapang panahon.

Bayaan ang ningas ng sikat ng arawula'y pasingawin noong kainitan,magbalik sa langit ng boong dalisaykalakip ng aking pagdaing na hiyaw.

Bayaang sino man sa katotang giliwtangisang maagang sa buhay pagkitil;kung tungkol sa akin ay may manalanginidalangin, Bayan, yaring pagka himbing.

Idalanging lahat yaong nangamatay,mangagatiis hirap na walang kapantay;



mga ina naming walang kapalaranna inihihibik ay kapighatian.

Ang mga bao't pinapangulila,ang mga bilanggong nagsisipagdusa;dalanginin namang kanilang makitaang kalayaan mong, ikagiginhawa.

At kung an madilim na gabing mapanglaway lumaganap na doon sa libinga'ttanging mga patay ang nangaglalamay,huwag bagabagin ang katahimikan.

Ang kanyang hiwagay huwag gambalain;kaipala'y maringig doon ang taginting,tunog ng gitara't salterio'y mag saliw,ako, Bayan yao't kita'y aawitin.

Kung ang libingan ko'y limat na ng lahatat wala ng kurus at batang mabakas,bayaang linangin ng taong masipag,lupa'y asarolin at kauyang ikalat.

At mga buto ko ay bago matunawmaowi sa wala at kusang maparam,alabok ng iyong latag ay bayaangsiya ang babalang doo'y makipisan.

Kung magka gayon na'y aalintanahinna ako sa limot iyong ihabilinpagka't himpapawid at ang panganorinmga lansangan mo'y aking lilibutin.Matining na tunog ako sa dingig mo,ilaw, mga kulay, masamyong pabango,ang ugong at awit, pag hibik sa iyo,pag asang dalisay ng pananalig ko.

Bayang iniirog, sakit niyaring hirap,Katagalugang ko pinakaliliyag,dinggin mo ang aking pagpapahimakas;diya'y iiwan ko sa iyo ang lahat.



Ako'y patutungo sa walang busabos,walang umiinis at berdugong hayop;pananalig doo'y di nakasasalot,si Bathala lamang dooy haring lubos.

Paalam, magulang at mga kapatidkapilas ng aking kaluluwa't dibdibmga kaibigan bata pang maliitsa aking tahanan di na masisilip.

Pag pasasalamat at napahinga rin,paalam estranherang kasuyo ko't aliw,paalam sa inyo, mga ginigiliw;mamatay ay siyang pagkakagupiling!

Sa Aking Mga Kabatani Jose P. Rizal

Kapagka ang baya'y sadyang umiibig Sa kanyang salitang kaloob ng langit, Sanglang kalayaan nasa ring masapit Katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid.

Pagka't ang salita'y isang kahatulan Sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharian, At ang isang tao'y katulad, kabagay Ng alin mang likha noong kalayaan.

Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salita Mahigit sa hayop at malansang isda, Kaya ang marapat pagyamaning kusa Na tulad sa inang tunay na nagpala.

Ang wikang Tagalog tulad din sa Latin Sa Ingles, Kastila at salitang anghel, Sapagka't ang Poong maalam tumingin Ang siyang naggawad, nagbigay sa atin.



Ang salita nati'y huwad din sa iba Na may alfabeto at sariling letra, Na kaya nawala'y dinatnan ng sigwa Ang lunday sa lawa noong dakong una.

Isinalin sa Pilipino di kilala

To My Fellow Childrentranslated by Frank C. Laubach

Whenever people of a country truly loveThe language which by heav'n they were taught to useThat country also surely liberty pursueAs does the bird which soars to freer space above.

For language is the final judge and refereeUpon the people in the land where it holds sway;In truth our human race resembles in this wayThe other living beings born in liberty.

Whoever knows not how to love his native tongueIs worse than any best or evil smelling fish.To make our language richer ought to be our wishThe same as any mother loves to feed her young.

Tagalog and the Latin language are the sameAnd 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 tht we knowHad alphabet and letters of its very own;But these were lost -- by furious waves were overthrownLike bancas in the stormy sea, long years ago.

A Fragmentby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin)

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 beof 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. Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Un Recuerdo A Mi Pueblo(Kalamba – La Laguna)

Cuando recuerdo los días,Que vieron mi edad primeraJunto a la verde riberaDe un lago mumurador;Cuando recuerdo el susurroDe Favonio que mi frenteRecreba dulcementeCon delicioso frescor; Cuando miro el blanco lirioHenchir con ímpetu el vintoY el tempestuoso elementoManso en la arema dormir;Cuando aspiro de las floresGrata esencia embriagadora,Que exhalan cuando la auroraNos comienza a sonreír; Recuerdo, recuerdo tristeTu faz, infancia preciosa,Que una madre cariñosa



¡Ay! consiguió embellecer.Recuerdo un pueblo sencillo,Mi contento, dicha y cuna,Junto a la fresca lagunaAsiento de mi quere. ¡Oh! si mi insegura plantaHolló tus bosques sombríos,Y en las costas de tus rios,Hallé grata diverión;Oré en tu rústico temploDe niño, con fe sencilla,Y tu brisa sin mancillaAlegró mi corazón. Vi al Creador en la grandezaDe tus selvas seculares;En tu seno los pesaresNunca llegué a conocer;Mientras tu azulado cieloMiré, ni amor ni ternuraMe faltó, que en la NaturaSe cifraba mi placer. ¡Niñez tierna, pueblo hermoso,Rica fuente de alegrías,De armoniosas melodías,Que ahuyentan el pesar!¡Volvedal corazón mío,Volved mis horas suaves,Volved, cual vuelven las avesDe las flores al brotar! Mas ¡ay! Adiós! Vele eternoPor tu paz, dicha y reposo,Genio del bien, que bondosoSus dones da con amor;Por tí mis fevientes votos,Por tí mi constante anheloDe aprender, y ¡plege al cieloConservase tu candor!



Conservase tu candor!

A Tribute to My Townby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) When I remember the days that saw my early childhood spent on the green shores of a murmurous lagoon; when I remember the coolness, delicious and refreshing, that on my face I felt as I heard Favonius croon; when I behold the white lily swell to the wind’s impulsion, and that tempestuous element meekly asleep on the sand; when I inhale the dear intoxicating essence the flowers exude when dawn is smiling on the land; sadly, sadly I recall your visage, precious childhood, which an affectionate mother made beautiful and bright; I recall a simple town, my comfort, joy and cradle, beside a balmy lake, the seat of my delight. Ah, yes, my awkward foot explored your sombre woodlands, and on the banks of your rivers in frolic I took part. I prayed in your rustic temple, a child, with a child’s devotion; and your unsullied breeze exhilarated my heart. The Creator I saw in the grandeur of your age-old forests;



upon your bosom, sorrows were ever unknown to me; while at your azure skies I gazed, neither love nor tenderness failed me, for in nature lay my felicity. Tender childhood, beautiful town, rich fountain of rejoicing and of harmonious music that drove away all pain: return to this heart of mine, return my gracious hours, return as the birds return when flowers spring again! But O goodbye! May the Spirit of Good, a loving gift-giver, keep watch eternally over your peace, your joy, your sleep! For you, my fervent pryers; for you, my constant desire to learn; and I pray heaven your innocence to keep! Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Felictación“Las hermanas de tu esposa

Te felicitan en tus días.”

ISi filomena con arpada lenguaAl rubio Apolo, que su fa asoma

Tras alta loma o encumbrado monte,Trinos envía.

II

También nosotras de contento IlenasTe saludamos y a tu noble santo

En tierno canto y fraternales metros,Caro Antonino.



III

De tus hermanas y demás parientesRecibe amable el cariñoso acento.

Que el suave aliento del amor los dictaPlácido y tierno.

IV

De maable esposa y cariñoso EmilioDulce recibas la sin par ternura,

Y su dulzura en la desgracia ablandeRudos tormentos.

V

Cual el piloto, que lochó valienteCon las borrascas en la noche oscura

Mira segura su querida nave,Llegado al Puerto;

VI

Así, dejando los mundanos lates,Tus ojos miren en el alto cielo

Al que es Consuelo de los hombres todosPadre qauerido.

VII

Y de nosotras, que con tierno acentoTe saludamos por doquíer festivas

Ruidosos vivas, que del pecho salen,Grato recibe.

Felicitationby José Rizal


[NOTE: Rizal was fourteen years old when he wrote this poem in 1875. Rizal congratulates Antonio Lopez, his bother-in-law (husband of his sister, Narcisa), on his saint’s day. – rly]

“The sisters of your wife

Greet you on your feast day.”



I

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

II So we as well, full of a sweet contentment, Salute you and your very noble saint With tender music and fraternal measures, Dear Antonino.

III 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.

IV From amorous wife and amiable Emilio Sweetly receive an unsurpassed affection; And may its sweetness in disaster soften The ruder torments.

V 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.

VI 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.

VII 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. Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Flower Among Flowersby José Rizal




Flower among flowers, soft bud swooning, that the wind moves to a gentle crooning. Wind of heaven, wind of love, you who gladden all you espy; you who smile and will not sigh, candour and fragrance from above; you who perhaps came down to earth to bring the lonely solace and mirth, and to be a joy for the heart to capture. They say that into your dawn you bear the immaculate soul a prisoner -- bound with the ties of passion and rapture? They say you spread good everywhere like the Spring which fills the air with joy and flowers in Apriltime. They say you brighten the soul that mourns when dark clouds gather, and that without thorns blossom the roses in your clime. If then, like a fairy, you enhance the joy of those on whom you glance with the magic charm



God gave to you; oh, spare me an hour of your cheer, a single day of your career, that the breast may savor the bliss it knew!

Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Goodbye to Leonor by José Rizal


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! Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Hymn To Laborby José Rizal


CHORUS:

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 sustainsFam'ly, home and Motherland.Hard the land may turn to be,



Scorching the rays of the sun above...For the country, wife and childrenAll will be easy to our love. (Chorus)

WIVES: Go to work with spirits high,For the wife keeps home faithfully,Inculcates love in her childrenFor 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 loveLabor his faith will sustain :Only a man who struggles and worksWill his offspring know to maintain. (Chorus)

CHILDREN: Teach, us ye the laborious workTo pursue your footsteps we wish,For tomorrow when country calls usWe 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 deadAs does a son with glory and valor. Dalit Sa Paggawa

KORO



Maging sa digmaan,O kapayapaan,Ang lahat-lahat naAy ukol sa bayan.Kaming Pilipino'yLaging magbabantay,Dahilan sa kanyaKami'y mabubuhay,Dahilan sa kanyaKami'y mamamatay.

MGA LALAKI: Langit sa Silangan ay namumula na,Tayo na sa bukid, halina't magsaka!Yayaman ang bayan, tahana't pamilya'ySa paggawa lamang ninitang ginhawa.Lupa'y matigas ma'tMainit ang araw,Madali ang lahat kung dahil sa bayan.Dahil sa asawa't mga bunsong mahal.

MGA MAYBAHAY:

Buong tapang kayong kumilos, gumawa,Tahana'y maayos huwag mabahala;Asawang matapat ang nag-aalaga,Sa isip ng anak ay ipinupunlaAng binhi ng dunong, ang magandang nasa'tPag-ibig sa ating tinubuang lupa.Pagdating ng gabi't mamahinga tayo,Sumubaybay nawa ang magandang palad,Sakaling samain at masawi kayo,Kami ang gagawa, kaming inyong kabiyak.

MGA BATANG BABAE:

Mabuhay! Mabuhay Paggawa'y purihin!Purihin ang lakas at yaman ng bayan;Itaas ang noo't siya'y salubungin,Paggawa ang inyong lakas, dugo, buhay.Kung mayrong binata na magpapahayag



Na siya'y ninibig sa isang dalaga,Mapatutunayan kung siya'y matapatPagka't sa paggawa mapagkikilala!Lalaking masipag ang maaari langBumuhay sa kanyang sariling pamilya.

MGA BATANG LALAKI:

Turuan mo kami; halika, Paggawa,Hindi kami takot sa tulo ng pawis,Ibig naming kami'y maging lalong handaSa tawag ng aming bayang iniibig,Upanding matupad ang lahat mong nasa.At nawa'y mawika ng aming magulang,"Nakita na ninyo? Sila'y dangal namin!"Sa mga yumao'y higit sa kamanyangAng galak na dulot ng batang butihin.Isinalin sa Pilipino di kilala

Hymn to Talisayby José Rizal


Hail, Talisay,

firm and faithful, ever forward march elate! You, victorious, the elements

—land, sea and air— shall dominate!

The sandy beach of Dapitan and the rocks of its lofty mountain are your throne. O sacred asylum where I passed my childhood days! In your valley covered with flowers and shaded by fruitful orchards, our minds received their formation, both body and soul, by your grace. We are children, children born late,



but our spirits are fresh and healthy; strong men shall we be tomorrow that can guard a family right. We are children that nothing frightens, not the waves, nor the storm, nor the thunder; the arm ready, the young face tranquil, in a fix we shall know how to fight. We ransack the sand in our frolic; through the caves and the thickets we ramble; our houses are built upon rocks; our arms reach far and wide. 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 no banca in the world can catch! We study the problems of science and the history of the nation. We speak some three or four languages; faith and reason we span. Our hands can wield at the same time the knife, the pen and the spade, the picket, the rifle, the sword—companions of a brave man. Long live luxuriant Talisay! Our voices exalt you in chorus, clear star, dear treasure of childhood, a childhood you guide and please. In the struggles that await the grown man, subject to pain and sorrow, your memory shall be his amulet;



snd your name, in the tomb, his peace. Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Kundiman

José Rizal

Tunay ngayong umid yaring dila't pusoSinta'y umiilag, tuwa'y lumalayo,Bayan palibhasa'y lupig at sumukoSa kapabayaan ng nagturong puno.

Datapuwa't muling sisikat ang araw,Pilit maliligtas ang inaping bayan,Magbabalik mandin at muling iiralAng ngalang Tagalog sa sandaigdigan.

Ibubuhos namin ang dugo't babahaMatubos nga lamang ang sa amang lupaHabang di ninilang panahong tadhana,Sinta'y tatahimik, iidlip ang nasa.

Kundimanby José Rizal

(A Translation from the original Tagalog by Nick Joaquin)

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 gread flood to liberate the parent sod; but till that day arrives for which we weep, love shall be mute, desire shall sleep.




MI PRIMERA INSPIRACIÓN

Note: This poem was written by José Rizal at age nine (!)or by his nephew, Antonio Lopez-Rizal (Narcisa's son) whose

handwriting was similar to his uncle's.

¿Porqué exhalan a porfíadel cáliz dulces oloreslas embalsamadas floresen este festivo dia? Y ¿porqué, en la selva amena,se oye dulce melodíaque asemeja la armoníade la arpada filomena? ¿Porqué en la mullida gramalas aves, al son del viento,exhalan meloso acentoy saltan de rama en rama? Y la fuente cristalina,formando dulce murmullo,del cefiro al suave arrulloentre las flores camina? Es que hoy celebran tu día¡oh, mi Madre cariñosa!con su perfume la rosay el ave con su armonía. Y la fuente rumorosa,en este día feliz,con su murmullo te dice¡que vivas siempre gozosa! Y, de esa fuente al rumor,oye la primera nota,que ahora de mi laud brotaal impulso de mi amor!



My First Inspiration by José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) 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!


Mi Retiro

Cabe anchurosa playa de fina y suave arenay al pie de una montaña cubierta de verdorplanté mi choza humilde bajo arboleda amena,buscando de los bosques en la quietud serenareposo a mi cerebro, silencio a mi dolor.

Su techo es frágil su suelo débil cana,sus vigas y columnas maderas sin labrar;nada vale, por cierto, mi rústica cabaña;mas duerme en el regazo de la eterna montaña,y la canta y la arrulla noche y días el mar.

Un afluente arroyuelo, que de la selva umbriadesciende entre peñascos, la baña con amor,y un chorro le regala por tosca cañeríaque en la cálida noche es canto y melodíay néctar cristalino del día en el calor.

Si el cielo esta sereno, mansa corre la fuente,Su cítara invisible tañedo sin cesar;pero vienen las lluvias, e impetuoso torrentepeñas y abismos salta, ronco, espumante, hirviente,y se arroja rugiendo frenético hacia el mar.

Del perro los ladridos, de las aves trinodel kalao la voz ronca solas se oyen alli,no hay hombre vanidoso ni importuno vecinoque se imponga a mi mente, ni estorbo mi camino;solo tengo las selvas y el mar cerca de mí.

El mar, el mar es todo! su masa soberanalos átomos me trae de mundos que lejos son;me alienta su sonrisa de límpida mañana,y cuando por la tarde mi fe resulta vanaencuentra en sus tristezas un eco el corazón.

DE noche es un arcano! ... su diáfano elementose cubre de millares, y millares de luz;la brisa vaga fresca, reluce el firmamento,las olas en suspiros cuentan al manso viento



las olas en suspiros cuentan al manso vientohistorias que se pierden del tiempo en el capiz.

Dizque cuentan del mundo la primera alborada,del sol el primer beso que su seno encendió,cuando miles de seres surgieron de la nada,y el abismo poblaron y la cima encumbraday doquiera su beso facundante estampó.

Mas cuando en noche oscura los vientos enfureceny las inquietas alas comienzan a agitar,crusan en aire gritos que el ánimo estremecen, coros, voces que rezan, lamentos que parecenexhalar los que un tiempo se hundieron en el mar.

Entonces repercuten los montes de la altura,los árboles se agitan de confín a confín;aullan los ganados, retumba la espesura,sus espíritus dicen que van a la llanurallamadas por los muertos a fúnebre festín.

Silva, silva la noche, confusa, aterradora;verdes, azules llamas en el mar vense arder;mas la calma renace con la próxima auroray pronto una atrevida barquilla pescadoralas fatigadas alas comienza a recorrer.

Asi pasan los días en mi oscuro retiro,desterrado del mundo donde tiempo viví,de mi rara fortuna la providencia admiro:quijarro abandonado que al musgo solo aspiropara ocultar a todos el mundo que tengo en mí!

Vivo con los recuerdos de los que yo he amadoy oigo de vez en cuando sus nombres pronunciar:unos estan ya muertos, otros me han abandonado;

¿mas que importa? ... Yo vivo pensando en lo pasado

y lo pasado nadie me puede arrebatar.

El es mi fiel amigo que nunca me desdoraque siempre alienta el alma cuando triste la ve,que en mis noches de insomnio conmigo vela y oraconmigo, y en mi destierro y en mi cabaña mora,y cuando todos dudan solo él me infunde fe.

Yo la tengo, y yo espero que ha de brillar un díaen que venza la idea a la fuerza brutal,



en que venza la idea a la fuerza brutal,que después de la lucha y la lente agonía,otra voz mas sonora y mas feliz que la míasabrá cantar entonces el cántico truinfal.

Veo brillar el cielo tan puro y refulgentecomo cuando forjaba mi primera ilusión,el mismo soplo siento besar mi mustia frente,el mismo que encendía mi entusiasmo fervientey hacía hervir la sangre del joven corazón.

Yo respiro la brisa que acaso haya pasadopor los campos y ríos de mi pueblo natal;acaso me devuelva lo que antes le he confiadolos besos y suspiros de un ser idolatrado,las dulces confidencias de un amor virginal!

Al ver la misma luna, cual antes argentada,la antigua melancolía siento en mi renancer;despiertan mil recuerdos de amor y fe jurada ...un patio, una azotea, la playa, un enramada,silencios y suspiros, rubores de placer ...

Mariposa sedienta de la luz y de colores,sonando en otros cielos y en más vasto pensil,dejé, jóven apenas, mi patria y mis amores,y errante por doquiera sin dudas, sin temores,gasté en tierras extrañas de mi vida de abril.

Y despues, cuando quise, golondrina causada,al nido de mis padres y de mi amor volver,rugió fiera de pronto violenta turbonada:vense rotas mis alas, desecha la morada,la fe vendida a otros y ruinas por doquier.

Lanzado a una pana de la patria que adora,el porvenir destruído, sin hogar, sin salud,de toda mi existencia el único tesoro,creencias de una sana, sincera juventud.

Ya no sóis como antes, llenas de fuego y vidabrindando mil coronas a la inmortalidad;algo serias os hallo; mas nuestra faz queridasi ya es tan sincera, si esta descoloridaen cambio lleva el sello de la fidelidad.

Me ofrecéis, oh ilusiones! la copa del consuelo,y mis jovenes años a despertar venís:



y mis jovenes años a despertar venís:gracias a ti, tormenta; gracias, vientos del cielo,que a buena hora supísteis cortar mi incierto vuelo,para abatirme al suelo de mi natal país.

Cabe anchurosa playa de fina y suave arenay al pie de una montaña cubierta de verdor,hallé en mi patria asilo bajo arboleda amena,y en sus umbrosos bosques, tranquilidad serena,reposo a mi cerebro, silencio a mi dolor.

My Retreatby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf, I planted my humble hut beneath a pleasant orchard, seeking in the still serenity of the woods repose to my intellect and silence to my grief. Its roof is fragile nipa; its floor is brittle bamboo; its beams and posts are rough as rough-hewn wood can be; of no worth, it is certain, is my rustic cabin; but on the lap of the eternal mount it slumbers and night and day is lulled by the crooning of the sea. The overflowing brook, that from the shadowy jungle descends between huge bowlders, washes it with its spray, donating a current of water through makeshift bamboo pipes that in the silent night is melody and music and crystalline nectar in the noon heat of the day. If the sky is serene, meekly flows the spring, strumming on its invisible zither unceasingly; but come the time of the rains, and an impetuous torrentspills over rocks and chasms—hoarse, foaming and aboil—to hurl itself with a frenzied roaring toward the sea. The barking of the dog, the twittering of the birds, the hoarse voice of the kalaw are all that I hear; there is no boastful man, no nuisance of a neighbor to impose himself on my mind or to disturb my passage; only the forests and the sea do I have near.



The sea, the sea is everything! Its sovereign mass brings to me atoms of a myriad faraway lands; its bright smile animates me in the limpid mornings; and when at the end of day my faith has proven futile, my heart echoes the sound of its sorrow on the sands. At night it is a mystery! … Its diaphanous element is carpeted with thousands and thousands of lights that climb; the wandering breeze is cool, the firmament is brilliant, the waves narrate with many a sigh to the mild wind histories that were lost in the dark night of time. ‘Tis said they tell of the first morning on the earth, of the first kiss with which the sun inflamed her breast, when multitudes of beings materialized from nothing to populate the abyss and the overhanging summits and all the places where that quickening kiss was pressed. But when the winds rage in the darkness of the night and the unquiet waves commence their agony, across the air move cries that terrify the spirit, a chorus of voices praying, a lamentation that seems to come from those who, long ago, drowned in the sea. Then do the mountain ranges on high reverberate; the trees stir far and wide, by a fit of trembling seized; the cattle moan; the dark depths of the forest resound; their spirits say that they are on their way to the plain, summoned by the dead to a mortuary feast. The wild night hisses, hisses, confused and terrifying; one sees the sea afire with flames of green and blue; but calm is re-established with the approach of dawning and forthwith an intrepid little fishing vessel begins to navigate the weary waves anew. So pass the days of my life in my obscure retreat; cast out of the world where once I dwelt: such is my rare good fortune; and Providence be praised for my condition: a disregarded pebble that craves nothing but moss to hide from all the treasure that in myself I bear.



I live with the remembrance of those that I have loved and hear their names still spoken, who haunt my memory; some already are dead, others have long forgotten— but what does it matter? I live remembering the past and no one can ever take the past away from me. It is my faithful friend that never turns against me, that cheers my spirit when my spirit’s a lonesome wraith, that in my sleepless nights keeps watch with me and prays with me, and shares with me my exile and my cabin, and, when all doubt, alone infuses me with faith. Faith do I have, and I believe the day will shine when the Idea shall defeat brute force as well; and after the struggle and the lingering agony a voice more eloquent and happier than my own will then know how to utter victory’s canticle. I see the heavens shining, as flawless and refulgent as in the days that saw my first illusions start; I feel the same breeze kissing my autumnal brow, the same that once enkindled my fervent enthusiasm and turned the blood ebullient within my youthful heart. Across the fields and rivers of my native town perhaps has travelled the breeze that now I breathe by chance; perhaps it will give back to me what once I gave it: the sighs and kisses of a person idolized and the sweet secrets of a virginal romance. On seeing the same moon, as silvery as before, I feel within me the ancient melancholy revive; a thousand memories of love and vows awaken: a patio, an azotea, a beach, a leafy bower; silences and sighs, and blushes of delight … A butterfly athirst for radiances and colors, dreaming of other skies and of a larger strife, I left, scarcely a youth, my land and my affections, and vagrant eveywhere, with no qualms, with no terrors, squandered in foreign lands the April of my life.



And afterwards, when I desired, a weary swallow, to go back to the nest of those for whom I care, suddenly fiercely roared a violent hurricane and I found my wings broken, my dwelling place demolished, faith now sold to others, and ruins everywhere. Hurled upon a rock of the country I adore; the future ruined; no home, no health to bring me cheer; you come to me anew, dreams of rose and gold, of my entire existence the solitary treasure, convictions of a youth that was healthy and sincere. No more are you, like once, full of fire and life, offering a thousand crowns to immortality; somewhat serious I find you; and yet your face beloved, if now no longer as merry, if now no longer as vivid, now bear the superscription of fidelity. You offer me, O illusions, the cup of consolation; you come to reawaken the years of youthful mirth; hurricane, I thank you; winds of heaven, I thank you that in good hour suspended by uncertain flight to bring me down to the bosom of my native earth. Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf, I found in my land a refuge under a pleasant orchard, and in its shadowy forests, serene tranquility, repose to my intellect and silence to my grief. Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

Canto Del ViajeroJosé Rizal

Hoja seca que cuela indecisaY arrebata violente turbión,Asi vive en la tierra el viajero,Sin norte, sin alma, sin patria ni amor.

Busca ansioso doquiera la dichaY la dicha se aleja fugaz:Vana sombra que burla su anhelo! ...Por ella el viajero se lanza a la mar!



Impelido por mano invisibleVagara confín en confín;Los recuedos le harán compañiaDe seres queridos, de un día felíz.

Una tumba quizá en el desieroHallará, dulce asilo de paz,De su patria y del mundo olvidado ...Descanse tranquilo, tras tanto penar !

Y le envidian al triste viajeroCuando cruza la tierra veloz ...Ay! no saben que dentro del almaExiste un vacio de falta el amor!

Volverá el peregrino a su patriaY a sus lares tal vez volverá,Y hallará por doquier nieve y ruinaAmores perdidos, sepulcros, no más.

Ve, Viajero, prosigue tu senda,Extranjero en tu propio país;Deja a otros que canten amores,Los otros que gocen; tu vuelve a partir.

Vé, viajero, no vuelvas el rostro,Que no hay llanto que siga al adiós;Ví, viajero, y ahoga tu penas;Que el mundo se burla de ajeno dolor.

Song of the Wandererby José Rizal


Dry leaf that flies at random till it's seized by a wind from above: so lives on earth the wanderer, without north, without soul, without country or love! Anxious, he seeks joy everywhere and joy eludes him and flees,



a vain shadow that mocks his yearning and for which he sails the seas. Impelled by a hand invisible, 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, shall return perhaps to his shore; and shall find only ice and ruin, perished loves, and gravesnothing more. Begone, wanderer! In your own country, a stranger now and alone! Let the others sing of loving, who are happybut you, begone! Begone, wanderer! Look not behind you nor grieve as you leave again. Begone, wanderer: stifle your sorrows! the world laughs at another's pain. Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin Awit Ng Manlalakbay

Kagaya ng dahong nalanta, nalagas,Sinisiklut-siklot ng hanging marahas;Abang manlalakbay ay wala nang liyag,Layuin, kalulwa't bayang matatawag.

Hinahabul-habol yaong kapalarang



Mailap at hindi masunggab-sunggaban;Magandang pag-asa'y kung nanlalabo man,Siya'y patuloy ring patungo kung saan!

Sa udyok ng hindi nakikitang lakas,Silanga't Kanlura'y kanyang nililipad,Mga minamahal ay napapangarap,Gayon din ang araw ng pamamanatag.

Sa pusod ng isang disyertong mapanglaw,Siya'y maaaring doon na mamatay,Limot ng daigdig at sariling bayan,Kamtan nawa niya ang kapayapaan!

Dami ng sa kanya ay nangaiinggit,Ibong naglalakaby sa buong daigdig,Hindi nila tanto ang laki ng hapisNa sa kanyang puso ay lumiligalig.

Kung sa mga tanging minahal sa buhaySiya'y magbalik pa pagdating ng araw,Makikita niya'y mga guho lamangAt puntod ng kanyang mga kaibigan.

Abang manlalakbay! Huwag nang magbalik,Sa sariling baya'y wala kang katalik;Bayaang ang puso ng iba'y umawit,Lumaboy kang muli sa buong daigdig.

Abang manlalakbay! Bakit babalik pa?Ang luhang inyukol sa iyo'y tuyo na;Abang manlalakbay! Limutin ang dusa,Sa hapis ng tao, mundo'y nagtatawa.Isinalin sa Pilipino di kilala

Canto de María Claraby José Rizal

Dulces las horas en la propia patriaDonde es amigo cuanto alumbra el sol,Vida es la brisa en sus campos vuela,Grata la muerte y más tierno el amor!



Ardientes besos en los labios juegan,De una madre en el seno al despertar,Buscan los brazos a ceñir al cuello,Y los ojos sonríense al mirar.

Dulce es la muerte por la propia patria,Donde es amigo cuanto alumbra el sol;Muerte es la brisa para quien no tieneUna patria, una madre y un amor!

The Song of Maria Claraby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) 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!


Ang Awit ni Maria Clara

Walang kasintamis ang mga sandali sa sariling bayan,Doon sa ang lahat ay pinagpapala ng halik ng araw,May buhay na dulot ang mahinhing simoy na galing sa parang.Pagsinta'y matimyas, at napakatamis ng kamatayan man.

Maapoy na halik, ang idinarampi ng labi ng inaPaggising ng sanggol sa kanyang kandungan na walang balisa,Pagkawit sa leeg ng bisig na sabik pa-uumaga na,Matang manininging ay nangakangiti't pupos ng ligaya.

Mamatay ay langit kung dahil sa ating lupang tinubuan,



Doon sa ang lahat ay pinagpapala ng halik ng araw,Ang mahinhing simoy ns galing sa bukid ay lubhang mapanglawSa wala nang ina, wala nang tahana't walang nagmamahal.


Me Piden Versos

José Rizal

Piden que pulse la liraHa tiempo callada y rota:Si ya no arranco una notaNi mi musa ya me inspira!Balbuce fría y deliraSi la tortura mi mente;Cuando ríe solo miente;Como miente su lamento:Y es que en mi triste aislamientoMi alma ni goza ni siente.

Hubo un tiempo ... y es verdad!Pero ya aquel tiempo huyó,En que vate me llamoLa indulgencia a la amistad.Ahora de aquella edadEl recuerdo apenas restaComo quedan de una fiestaLos misteriosos sonidosQue retienen los oídosDel bullicio de la orquesta.

Soy planta apenas crecidaArrancada del Oriente,Donde es perfume el ambiente,Donde es un sueño la vida:Patria que jamás se olvida!Enseñáronme a cantarLas aves, con su trinar;Con su rumor, las cascadas;Y en sus playas dilatadas,Los murmullos de la mar.



Mientras en la infancia míaPude a su sol sonreír,Dentro de mi pecho hervirVolcán de fuego sentía;Vate fuí, porque queríaCon mis versos, con mi aliento,Decir al rápido viento:Vuela; su fama pregona!Cántala de zona en zona;De la tierra al firmamento!

La dejé! ... mis patrios lares.Arboldespojado y seco!Ya no repiten el ecoDe mis pasados cantaresYo crucé los vastos maresAnsiando cambiar de suerte,Y mi locura no advierteQue en vez del bien que buscaba,El mar conmigo surcabaEl espectro de la muerte.

Toda mis hermosa ilusión,Amor, entusiasmo, anhelo,Allá quedan bajo el cieloDe tan florida región:No pidáis al corazónCantos de amor, que esta yerto;Porque en medio del desiertoDonde discurro sin calma,Siento que agoniza el almaY mi númen está muerto.

They Ask Me for Verses!by José Rizal


I

They bid me strike the lyre so long now mute and broken, but not a note can I waken nor will my muse inspire!



She stammers coldly and babbles when tortured by my mind; she lies when she laughs and thrills as she lies in her lamentation, for in my sad isolation my soul nor frolics nor feels.

II There was a time, 'tis true, but now that time has vanished when indulgent love or friendship called me a poet too. Now of that time there lingers hardly a memory, as from a celebration some mysterious refrain that haunts the ears will remain of the orchestra's actuation.

III A scarce-grown plant I seem, uprooted from the Orient, where perfume is the atmosphere and where life is a dream. O land that is never forgotten! And these have taught me to sing: the birds with their melody, the cataracts with their force and, on the swollen shores, the murmuring of the sea.

IV While in my childhood days I could smile upon her sunshine, I felt in my bosom, seething, a fierce volcano ablaze. A poet was I, for I wanted with my verses, with my breath, to say to the swift wind: "Fly and propagate her renown! Praise her from zone to zone, from the earth up to the sky!"

V I left her! My native hearth, a tree despoiled and shriveled,



no longer repeats the echo of my old songs of mirth. I sailed across the vast ocean, craving to change my fate, not noting, in my madness, that, instead of the weal I sought, the sea around me wrought the spectre of death and sadness.

VI The dreams of younger hours, love, enthusiasm, desire, have been left there under the skies of that fair land of flowers. Oh, do not ask of my heart that languishes, songs of love! For, as without peace I tread this desert of no surprises, I feel that my soul agonizes and that my spirit is dead.


Pinatutula Ako

Iyong hinihiling, lira ay tugtuginbagaman sira na't laon nang naumidayaw nang tumipa ang nagtampong bagtingpati aking Musa ay nagtago narin.

malungkot na nota ang nasnaw na himigwaring hinuhugot dusa at hinagpisat ang alingawngaw ay umaaliwiwsa sarili na ring puso at damdamin.kaya nga't sa gitna niring aking hapisyaring kalul'wa ko'y parang namamanhid.Nagkapanahon nga ... kaipala'y, tunayang mga araw na matuling nagdaannang ako sa akong Musa'y napamahallagi na sa akin, ngiti'y nakalaan.

ngunit marami nang lumipas na arawsa aking damdamin alaala'y naiwankatulad ng saya at kaligayahan



kapag dumaan na'y may hiwagang taglayna mga awiting animo'y lumulutangsa aking gunitang malabo, malamlam.Katulad ko'y binhing binunot na tanimsa nilagakan kong Silangang lupainpawang lahat-lahat ay kagiliw-giliwmanirahan doo'y sayang walang maliw.

ang bayan kong ito, na lubhang marikitsa diwa't puso ko'y hindi mawawaglitibong malalaya, nangagsisiawitmulang kabundukan, lagaslas ng tubigang halik ng dagat sa buhangin mandinlahat ng ito'y, hindi magmamaliw.Nang ako'y musmos pa'y aking natutuhangmasayang batiin ang sikat ng arawhabang sa diwa ko'y waring naglalatangsilakbo ng isang kumukulong bulkan.

laon nang makata, kaya't ako nama'ylaging nagnanais na aking tawagansa diwa at tula, hanging nagduruyan:"Ikalat mo lamang ang kanyang pangalan,angking kabantugan ay ipaghiyawanmataas, mababa'y, hayaang magpisan".

To Miss C.O. y R.by José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) Why ask for those unintellectual verses that once, insane with grief, I sang aghast? Or are you maybe throwing in my face my rank ingratitude, my bitter past? Why resurrect unhappy memories now when the heart awaits from love a sign, or call the night when day begins to smile, not knowing if another day will shine? You wish to learn the cause of this dejection delirium of despair that anguish wove? You wish to know the wherefore of such sorrows,



and why, a young soul, I sing not of love? Oh, may you never know why! For the reason brings melancholy but may set you laughing. Down with my corpse into the grave shall go 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! Again I feel the impenetrable shadows shrouding the soul with the thick veils of night: a mere bud only, not a lovely flower, because it's destitute of air and light Behold them: my poor verses, my damned brood and sorrow suckled each and every brat! Oh, they know well to what they owe their being, and maybe they themselves will tell you what.


To My --by José Rizal


No more is the muse invoked; the lyre is out of fashion; no poet cares to use it; by other things are the dreamy young inspired to passion. Now if imagination demands some poesies, no Helicon is invoked; one simply asks the garçon for a cup of coffee please. Instead of tender stanzas that move the heart’s sympathy,



one now writes a poem with a pen of steel, a joke and an irony. Muse that in the past inspired me to sing of the throes of love: go and repose. What I need is a sword, rivers of gold, and acrid prose. I have a need to reason, to meditate, to offer combat, sometimes to weep; for he who would love much has also much to suffer. Gone are the days of peace, the days of love’s gay chorus, when the flowers were enough to alleviate the soul of its sufferings and sorrows. One by one from my side go those I loved so much: this one dead, that one married; for fate seals with disaster everything that I touch. Flee also, muse! Go forth and seek a region more fine, for my country vows to give you fetters for your laurels, a dark jail for your shrine. If to suppress the truth be a shame, an impiety, would it not then be madness to keep you by my side deprived of liberty? Why sing when destiny calls to serious meditation,



when a hurricane is roaring, when to her sons complains the Filipino nation? And why sing if my song will merely resound with a moaning that will arouse no one, the world being sick and tired of someone else’s groaning? For what, when among the people who criticize and maltreat me, arid the soul, the lips frigid, there’s not a heart that beats with mine, no heart to meet me? Let sleep in the depths of oblivion all that I feel, for there it well should be, where the breath cannot mix it with a rhyme that evaporates in the air. As sleep in the deep abyss the monsters of the sea, so let my tribulations, my fancies and my lyrics slumber, buried in me. I know well that your favors you lavish without measure only during that time of flowers and first loves unclouded by displeasure. Many years have passed since with the ardent heat of a kiss you burned my brow … That kiss has now turned cold, I have even forgotten it! But, before departing, say that to your sublime address



ever responded in me 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 when, faith being faded, broken the sword, I cannot for my country die. You’ll give me the mourning zither whose chords vibrate with elegiac strains to sweeten the sorrows of my nation and muffle the clanking of her chains. But if with laurel triumph crowns our efforts, and my country, united, like a queen of the East arises, a white pearl rescued from the sty: return then and intone with vigor the sacred hymn of a new existence, and we shall sing that strain in chorus though in the sepulcher we lie.


Al Niño Jesús

¿Cómo, Dios-niño, has venidoA la tierra en pobre cuna?¿Y te escarnece Fortuna,Cuando apenas has nacido?¡Ay, triste! Del Cielo ReyY llega cual vil humano!¿No quieres ser soberano,Sino Pastor de tu grey?

To the Child Jesusby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) 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? Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin Sa Sanggol Na Si Jesus

O Diyos na Sanggol, paano ba kaya'tAng sinilangan Mo ay sabsabang aba?Diyata't di pa man ay pag-alipustaAng dulot ng Palad sa Iyong pagbaba?

Kaylungkot! O hari ng Sangkalangitan,Nagkatawang-tao't sa lupa'y tumahan,Hindi Mo ba ibig na Haring matanghalKundi Pastol namin na kawan Mong mahal?Isinalin sa Tagalog dikilala

A Las Flores De HeidelbergJosé Rizal

Id a mi patria, id, extranjeras flores,sembradas del viajero en el camino,y bajo su azul cielo,que guarda mis amores,contad del peregrinola fe que alienta por su patrio suelo! id y decid ... decid que cuando el albavuestro cáliz abrió por vez primeracabe el Neckar helado,le visteis silencioso a vuestro ladopensando en su constante primavera.Decid que cuando el alba,que roba vuestro aroma,cantos de amor jugando os susurraba,él tambien murmurabacantos de amor en su natal idioma;que cuando el sol la cumbredel Koenigsthul en la mañana dora



y con su tibia lumbreanima el valle, el bosque y la espesura,saluda a ese sol aún en su aurora,al que en su patria en el cenit fulgura !y contad aquel día cuando os cogía al borde del sendero,entre ruinas del feudal castillo,orilla al Neckar, o a la selva umbria.Contad lo que os decía ,cuando, con gran ciudadoentre las páginas de un libro usadovuestras flexibles hojas oprimía.

Llevad, llevad, oh flores !amor a mis amorespaz a mi país y a su fecunda tierra,fe a sus hombres, virtud a sus mujeres, salud a dulces seresque el paternal, sagrado hogar encierra ...

Cuando toqueis la playa,el beso os imprimodepositadlo en ala de la brisa,por que con ella vayay bese cuanto adora, amo y estimo.

Mas ay llegáreis flores,conservaréis quizas vuestras colores,pero lejos del patrio, heroico sueloa quien debéis la vida:que aroma es alma, y no abandona el cielo,cuya luz viera en su nacer, ni olvida.

To the Flowers of Heidelbergby José Rizal


Go to my country, go, O foreign flowers, sown by the traveler along the road, and under that blue heaven that watches over my loved ones, recount the devotion



the pilgrim nurses for his native sod! Go and say say that when dawn opened your chalices for the first time beside the icy Neckar, you saw him silent beside you, thinking of her constant vernal clime. Say that when dawn which steals your aroma was whispering playful love songs to your young sweet petals, he, too, murmured canticles of love in his native tongue; that in the morning when the sun first traces the topmost peak of Koenigssthul in gold and with a mild warmth raises to life again the valley, the glade, the forest, he hails that sun, still in its dawning, that in his country in full zenith blazes. And tell of that day when he collected you along the way among the ruins of a feudal castle, on the banks of the Neckar, or in a forest nook. Recount the words he said as, with great care, between the pages of a worn-out book he pressed the flexible petals that he took. Carry, carry, O flowers, my love to my loved ones, peace to my country and its fecund loam, faith to its men and virtue to its women, health to the gracious beings that dwell within the sacred paternal home. When you reach that shore, deposit the kiss I gave you on the wings of the wind above that with the wind it may rove and I may kiss all that I worship, honor and love! 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.


Sa Mga Bulaklak ng Heidelberg

Pumaroon kayo sa mutya kong bayang pinakamamahal,O mga bulaklak na hasik sa landas niyong manlalakbay,At doon, sa silong ng maaliwalas na langit na bughaw,Sa mga mahal ko'y di nagpapabaya't laging nagbabantay,Inyong ibalita itong pananalig na sa puso'y taglayNg abang lagalag na di lumilimot sa nilisang bayan.

Pumaroon kayo, inyong ibalitang madilim-dilim pa,Kung kayo, sa bati ng bukang-liwayway, ay bumubukad na,Sa pampang ng Neckar na lubhang malamig ay naroon siya,At sa inyong tabi'y inyong namamasid na parang estatuwa,Ang Tagsibol doong hindi nagbabago'y binubulay niya.

Inyong ibalitang kung sinisingil na ng bukang-liwaywayAng buwis na bango ng inyong talulot pag ngiti ng araw,Habang bumubulong ang bagong umagang halik ang kasabayNg "Kung inyo lamang nababatid sana yaring pagmamahal!"Siya'y may bulong ding inaawit-awit sa katahimikan,Kundiman ng puso na sa kanyang wika'y inyong napakinggan.

At kung sa taluktok niyong Koenigsthul ay humahalik naAng mapulang labi ng anak ng araw sa pag-uumaga,At ang mga lambak, gubat at kahuya'y binubusog niyaSa daloy ng buhay na dulot ng sinag na malahininga,Yaong manlalakbay ay bumabati ring puspos ng ligayaSa araw, na doon sa sariling baya'y laging nagbabaga.

At ibalita rin na nang minsang siya'y naglalakad-lakadSa pampang ng Neckar ay pinupol kayo sa gilid ng landas,Doon sa ang tanod ay ang mga guhong bakas ng lumipas,Na nalililiman ng maraming punong doo'y naggugubat.

Ibalita ninyo kung paanong kayo'y marahang pinupol,Pinakaingatang huwag masisira ang sariwang dahon,



At sa kanyang aklat ay ipinaloob at doon kinuyom,Aklat ay luma na, datapuwa't kayo'y naroon pa ngayon.

Hatdan, hatdan ninyo, O pinakatanging bulaklak ng Rin,Hatdan ng pag-ibig ang lahat ng aking nga ginigiliw,Sa bayan kong sinta ay kapayapaan ang tapat kong hiling,Sa kababaihan ay binhi ng tapang ang inyong itanim;Pagsadyain ninyo, O mga bulaklak, at inyong batiinAng mga mahal kong sa tahanang banal ay kasama namin.

At pagsapit ninyo sa dalampasigan ng bayan kong irog,Bawa't halik sanang idinarampi ko sa inyong talulotAy inyong isakay sa pakpak ng hanging doo'y lumilibot,Upang sa lahat nang iginagalang ko't sinisitang lubosNawa'y makasapit ang halik ng aking pag-ibig na taos.

Maaaring doo'y makarating kayong taglay pa ang kulay,Subali't ang bango'y wala na marahil at kusang pumanaw,Wala na ang samyong sa talulot ninyo'y iningatang yaman,Pagka't malayo na sa lupang sa inyo'y nagbigay ng buhay;Iwing halimuyak ang inyong kaluluwa, at di malilisanNi malilimot pa ang langit na saksi nang kayo'y isilang.


A La Juventud Filipina

Alza su tersa frente,Juventud Filipina, en este día!Luce resplandecienteTu rica gallardía,Bella esperanza de la Patria Mía!

Vuela, genio grandioso,Y les infunde noble pensamiento,Que lance vigoroso,Más rápido que el viento,Su mente virgen al glorioso asiento.

Baja con la luz grataDe las artes y ciencias a la arena,Juventud, y desataLa pesada cadenaQue tu genio poético encadena.



Ve que en la ardiente zonaDo moraron las sombras, el hispanoEsplendente corona,Con pía sabia mano,Ofrece al hijo de este suelo indiano.

Tú, que buscando subes,En alas de tu rica fantasia,Del Olimpo en las nubesTiernisima poesiaMas sabrosa que nectar y ambrosia.

Tú, de celeste acento,Melodioso rival Filomena,Que en variado conciertoEn la noche serenaDisipas del mortal la amarga pena.

Tú que la pena duraAnimas al impulso de tu mente ,Y la memoria puraDel genio refulgenteEternizas con genio prepotente.

Y tú, que el vario encantoDe Febo, amado del divino Apeles,Y de natura el mantoCon mágicos pincelesTrasladar al sencillo lienzo sueles.

Corred! que sacra llamaDel genio el lauro coronar espera,Esparciendo la FamaCon trompa pregoneraEl nombre del mortal por la ancha espera.

Día, día felice,Filipinas gentil, para tu suelo!Al Potente bendiceQue con amante anheloLa ventura te envía y el consuelo.

To the Philippine Youth by Jose Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) Hold high the brow serene,



O youth, where now you stand;Let the bright sheenOf 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 lightOf art and science to the fight,O youth, and there untieThe chains that heavy lie,Your spirit free to blight.See how in flaming zoneAmid the shadows thrown,The Spaniard'a holy handA crown's resplendent bandProffers to this Indian land. Thou, who now wouldst riseOn wings of rich emprise,Seeking from Olympian skies Songs of sweetest strain,Softer than ambrosial rain;Thou, whose voice divineRivals Philomel's refrainAnd with varied lineThrough the night benignFrees mortality from pain; Thou, who by sharp strifeWakest thy mind to life ;And the memory brightOf thy genius' lightMakest immortal in its strength ; And thou, in accents clearOf 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 fireOf 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-dayThat places in thy wayThis favor and this fortune grand !

Translated by Charles Derbyshire

Sa Kabataang Pilipino

Itaas ang iyong noong aliwalasngayon, Kabataan ng aking pangarap!ang aking talino na tanging liwanagay pagitawin mo, Pag-asa ng Bukas!

Ikaw ay lumitaw, O Katalinuhanmagitang na diwang puno sa isipanmga puso nami'y sa iyo'y naghihintayat dalhin mo roon sa kaitaasan.

Bumaba kang taglay ang kagiliw-giliwna mga silahis ng agham at siningmga Kabataan, hayo na't lagutinang gapos ng iyong diwa at damdamin.

Masdan ang putong na lubhang makinangsa gitna ng dilim ay matitiganmaalam na kamay, may dakilang alaysa nagdurusa mong bayang minamahal.

Ikaw na may bagwis ng pakpak na naiskagyat na lumipad sa tuktok ng langitpaghanapin mo ang malambing na tinigdoon sa Olimpo'y pawang nagsisikap.



Ikaw na ang himig ay lalong mairogTulad ni Pilomel na sa luha'y gamotat mabisang lunas sa dusa't himuntokng puso at diwang sakbibi ng lungkot

Ikaw, na ang diwa'y makapangyarihanmatigas na bato'y mabibigyang-buhaymapagbabago mo alaalang taglaysa iyo'y nagiging walang kamatayan.

Ikaw, na may diwang inibig ni Apelessa wika inamo ni Pebong kay rikitsa isang kaputol na lonang maliitginuhit ang ganda at kulay ng langit.

Humayo ka ngayon, papagningasin moang alab ng iyong isip at talinomaganda mong ngala'y ikalat sa mundoat ipagsigawan ang dangal ng tao.

Araw na dakila ng ligaya't galakmagsaya ka ngayon, mutyang Pilipinaspurihin ang bayang sa iyo'y lumingapat siyang nag-akay sa mabuting palad.


To The PhilippinesBy José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) Warm and beautiful like a houri of yore, as gracious and as pure as the break of dawn when darling clouds take on a sapphire tone, sleeps a goddess on the Indian shore. The small waves of the sonorous sea assail her feet with ardent, amorous kisses, while the intellectual West adores her smile; and the old hoary Pole, her flower veil. My Muse, most enthusiastic and elate,



sings to her among naiads and undines; I offer her my fortune and my fate. With myrtle, purple roses, and flowering greens and lilies, crown her brow immaculate, O artists, and exalt the Philippines! Translated from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin

To the Virgin Maryby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) 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!


Sa Mahal na Birhen Maria

Ikaw na ligaya ng tanang kinapal,Mariang sakdal tamis na kapayapan,Bukal ng saklolong hindi naghuhumpay,Daloy ng biyayang walang pagkasyahan.

Mula sa trono mong langit na mataas,Ako'y marapating lawitan ng habag,Ilukob ang iyong balabal ng lingapSa daing ng aking tinig na may pakpak.



Ikaw na Ina ko, Maraing matimtiman;Ikaw ang buhay ko at aking sandingan;Sa maalong dagat, ikaw ang patnubay:

Sa oras ng lalong masisidhing tukso,At kung malapit na ang kamatayan ko,Lumbay ko'y pawiin, saklolohan ako!

Water and Fireby José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin) 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!


Por La Educación( Recibe Lustre La Patria )

José Rizal

La sabia educación, vital alientoInfunde una virtud encantadora;Ella eleva la Patria al alto asientoDe la gloria inmortal, deslumbradora,Y cual de fresca brisa al soplo lentoReverdece el matíz de flor ocra:Tal la educación al ser humanoBuenhechora engrandece con larga mano.

Por ella sacrifica su existenciaEl mortal y el plácido reposo;Por ella nacer vense el arte y la cienciaQue ciñen al humano lauro hermoso:Y cual del alto monte en la eminencia



Brota el puro raudal de arroyo undoso;Así la educación da sin mesuraA la patria do mora paz segura.

Do sabia educación trono levantaLozana juventud robusta creceQue subyuga el error con firme plantaY con nobles ideas se engrandece:Del vicio la cerviz ella quebranta;Negro crimen ante ella palidence:Ella domina bárbaras naciones,Y de salvajes hace campeones.

Y cual el manantial que alimentandoLas plantas, los arbustos de la vega,Su plácido caudal va derramando,Y con bondoso afan constante riegaLas riberas do vase deslizando,Y a la bella natura nada niega:Tal al que sabia educación procuraDel honor se levanta hasta la lectura.

De sus labios la aguas cristalinasDe célica virtud sin cesar brotan,Y de su fe las providas doctrinasDel mal las fuerzas débiles agotan,Que se estrellan cual olas blanquecinasQue la playas inmóviles azotan:Y apreden con su ejemplo loas mortalesA trepar por las sendas celestiales.

En el pecho de miserios humanosElla enciende del bien la viva llama;Al fiero criminal ata las manos,Y el consuelo en los pechos fiel derrama.Que buscan sus benéficos arcanos;Y en el amor de bien su pecho inflama:Y es la educacion noble y cumplidaEl bálsamo seguro de la vida.

Y cual peñón que elevase altaneroEn medio da las ondas borrascosas



Al bramar del huracán y noto fiero,Desprecia su furor y olas furiosas,Que fatigadas del horror primeroSe retiran en calma temerosas;Tal es el que sabia educación dirigeLas riendas de la patria invicto rige.

En zafiros estállense los hechos;Tribútele la patria mil honores;Pues de sus hijos en las nobles pechosTransplantó la virtud lozanas flores;Y en el amor del bien siempre deshechosVerán las gobernantes y señoresAl noble pueblo que con fiel venturaCristiana educación siempre procura.

Y cual de rubio sol de la manañaVierten oro los rayos esplendentes,Y cual la bella aurora de oro y granaEsparce sus colores refulgentes;Tal noche instrucción, ofrece ufanaDe virtud el placer a los vivientes,Y ella a nuestra cara patria ilustreInmortal esplendor y ilustre.

Education Gives Luster To The Motherland The Translator is Unknown

Wise education, vital breathInspires an enchanting virtue;She puts the Country in the lofty seatOf endless glory, of dazzling glow,And just as the gentle aura's puffDo 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 lifeTo education he dedicatesBecause of her, art and science are bornMan; and as from the high mount aboveThe pure rivulet flows, undulates,So education beyond measure



Gives the Country tranquility secure.

Where wise education raises a throneSprightly youth are invigorated,Who with firm stand error they subdueAnd with noble ideas are exalted;It breaks immortality's neck,Contemptible crime before it is halted:It humbles barbarous nationsAnd it makes of savages champions.

And like the spring that nourishesThe 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 wiseUntil the height of honor may rise.

From her lips the waters crystallineGush forth without end, of divine virtue,And prudent doctrines of her faithThe forces weak of evil subdue,That break apart like the whitish wavesThat lash upon the motionless shoreline:And to climb the heavenly ways the peopleDo learn with her noble example.

In the wretched human beings' breastThe living flame of good she lightsThe hands of criminal fierce she ties,And fill the faithful hearts with delights,Which seeks her secrets beneficientAnd in the love for the good her breast she incites,And it's th' education noble and pureOf human life the balsam sure.

And like a rock that rises with prideIn the middle of the turbulent wavesWhen hurricane and fierce Notus roarShe disregards their fury and raves,



That weary of the horror greatSo frightened calmly off they stave;Such is one by wise education steeredHe 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 sonsVirtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;And in the love of good e'er disposedWill see the lords and governorsThe noble people with loyal ventureChristian education always procure.

And like the golden sun of the mornWhose rays resplendent shedding gold,And like fair aurora of gold and redShe overspreads her colors bold;Such true education proudly givesThe pleasue of virtue to young and oldAnd she enlightens out Motherland dearAs she offers endless glow and luster.

Alianza Íntima Entre La Religión

Y La Educación Cual hiedra trepadoraTortuosa caminaPor el olmo empinado,Siendo entrambos encanto al verde prado,Y a la par se embelecenMientras unidos crecen;Y si el olmo compasivo faltase,La hiedraal carecer de su ConsueloVería tristemente marchitarse;Tal la Educación estrecha alianzaCon alma Religión une sincera;Por ella Educación renombre alcanza;Y ¡ay! Del ser que ciegao desechandoDe santa Religión sabias doctrinas,



De su puro raudal huye nefando. Si de la vid pomposaEl tallo ufano creceY sus dulces racimos nos ofrece,En tanto que al sarmiento generosaAlimenta la planta cariñosa;Tal límpidas CorrientesDe célica virtud dan nueva vidaA Educación cumplida,Guiándola con sus luces refulgentes;Por ella delicado olar exhale,Y Sus frutos sabrosos nos regala.Sin Religión, la Educación humanaEs cual nave del viento combatidaQue pierde su timón en lucha horribleAl fragoroso impulse y sacudidaDel proceloso Bóreas terribleQue la combate fieroHasta undirla altaneroEn los abismos de la mar airada. Si el rocío del cieloVigoriza y sustenta a la pradera,Y por él, en Hermosa primavera,Salen las flores a border el suelo;Tal si a la Educación fecundizaraCon sus doctrinas Religión piadosa,Hacia el bien lacentera caminaraCon planta generosa;Y dando de virtud lozanas floresEsparciera doquiera sus olores. 19 de abril de 1876

The Intimate Alliance BetweenReligion and Education

NOTE: This poem was written by Rizal was almost at the age offifteen and a student at the Ateneo not long before he



graduated. It may be noted that the Jesuits held to a strongrelationship between education and faith, the ratio studiorum. --rly

As the climbing ivy over lofty elmCreeps tortuously, together the adornmentOf the verdant plain, embellishingEach other and together growing,But should the kindly elm refuse its aidThe ivy would impotent and friendless wither;So is Education to ReligionBy spiritual alliance firmly bound.Through Religion, Education gains renown, andWoe to the impious mind that blindly spurningThe sapient teachings of Religion, thisUnpolluted fountainhead forsakes. As the sprout, growing from the pompous vine,Proudly offers us its honeyed clustersWhile the generous and fresh’ning watersOf celestial virtue give new lifeTo Education true, sheddingOn it warmth and light; because of themThe vine smells sweet and gives delicious fruit. Without Religion, Human EducationIs like unto a vessel struck by windsWhich, sore beset, is of its helm deprivedBy the roaring blows and buffets of the dreadTempestuous Boreas [The north wind -- rly], who fiercely wieldsHis power until he proudly sends her downInto the deep abysses of the angered sea. As heaven’s dew the meadow feeds and strengthensSo that blooming flowers all the earthEmbroider in the days of spring; so alsoIf Religion holy nourishesEducation with its doctrines, sheShall walk in joy and generosityToward the Good, and everywhere bestrewThe fragrant and luxuriant fruits of Virtue.



The fragrant and luxuriant fruits of Virtue. 19 April 1876.

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