KUNDIMAN BY JOSE RIZAL -ENGLISH TRANSLATION

This is the ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF KUNDIMAN by JOSE RIZAL which was originally written in Tagalog. For Tagalog version, go to this page.

KUNDIMAN

Truly hushed today
Are my tongue and heart
Harm is discerned by love
And joy flies away,
'Cause the Country was
Vanquished and did yield
Through the negligence
Of the one who led.

But the sun will return to dawn;
In spite of everything
Subdued people
Will be liberated;
The Filipino name
Will return perhaps
And again become
In vogue in the world.

We shall shed
Blood and it shall flood
Only to emancipate
The native land;
While the designated time
Does not come,
Love will rest
And anxiety will sleep.




Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

MEMORIES OF MY TOWN by JOSE RIZAL

MEMORIES OF MY TOWN is the English translation of the poem of JOSE RIZAL,UN RECUERDO MI PUEBLO, which can be found in this page and the Tagalog version in this page.


MEMORIES OF MY TOWN

When I recall the days
That saw my childhood of yore
Beside the verdant shore
Of a murmuring lagoon;
When I remember the sighs
Of the breeze that on my brow
Sweet and caressing did blow
With coolness full of delight;

When I look at the lily white
Fills up with air violent
And the stormy element
On the sand doth meekly sleep;
When sweet 'toxicating scent
From the flowers I inhale
Which at the dawn they exhale
When at us it begins to peep;

I sadly recall your face,
Oh precious infancy,
That a mother lovingly
Did succeed to embellish.
I remember a simple town;
My cradle, joy and boon,
Beside the cool lagoon
The seat of all my wish.

Oh, yes! With uncertain pace
I trod your forest lands,
And on your river banks
A pleasant fun I found;
At your rustic temple I prayed
With a little boy's simple faith
And your aura's flawless breath
Filled my heart with joy profound.

Saw I God in the grandeur
Of your woods which for centuries stand;
Never did I understand
In your bosom what sorrows were;
While I gazed on your azure sky
Neither love nor tenderness
Failed me, 'cause my hapiness
In the heart of nature rests there.

Tender childhood, beautiful town,
Rich fountain of hapiness,
Of harmonious melodies,
That drive away my sorrow!
Return thee to my heart,
Bring back my gentle hours
As do the birds when the flow'rs
Would again begin to blow !

But, alas, adieu! E'er watch
For your peace, joy and repose,
Genius of good who kindly dispose
Of his blessings with amour;
It's for thee my fervent pray'rs,
It's for thee my constant desire
Knowledge ever to acquire
And may God keep your candour!

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

EDUCATION GIVES LUSTER TO THE MOTHERLAND by JOSE RIZAL

This is the English translation of Por La Educacion which can be found in this page.

Education Gives Luster To The Motherland


Wise education, vital breath
Inspires an enchanting virtue;
She puts the Country in the lofty seat
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,
And just as the gentle aura's puff
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:
So education with a wise, guiding hand,
A benefactress, exalts the human band.

Man's placid repose and earthly life
To education he dedicates
Because of her, art and science are born
Man; and as from the high mount above
The pure rivulet flows, undulates,
So education beyond measure
Gives the Country tranquility secure.

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

And like the spring that nourishes
The plants, the bushes of the meads,
She goes on spilling her placid wealth,
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,
The river banks through which she slips,
And to beautiful nature all she concedes,
So whoever procures education wise
Until the height of honor may rise.

From her lips the waters crystalline
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,
And prudent doctrines of her faith
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Do learn with her noble example.

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

And like a rock that rises with pride
In the middle of the turbulent waves
When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
She disregards their fury and raves,
That weary of the horror great
So frightened calmly off they stave;
Such is one by wise education steered
He holds the Country's reins unconquered.

His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
The Country pays him a thousand honors;
For in the noble breasts of her sons
Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And in the love of good e'er disposed
Will see the lords and governors
The noble people with loyal venture
Christian education always procure.

And like the golden sun of the morn
Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
And like fair aurora of gold and red
She overspreads her colors bold;
Such true education proudly gives
The pleasue of virtue to young and old
And she enlightens out Motherland dear
As she offers endless glow and luster.

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

TO THE VIRGIN MARY by JOSE RIZAL

This is the English translation of Jose Rizal's poem, Sa Mahal na Birhen found in this page.


To The Virgin Mary


Mary, sweet peace, solace dear
Of pained mortal ! You're the fount
Whence emanates the stream of succour,
That without cease our soil fructifies.

From thy throne, from heaven high,
Kindly hear my sorrowful cry !
And may thy shining veil protect
My voice that rises with rapid flight.

Thou art my Mother, Mary, pure;
Thou'll be the fortress of my life;
Thou'll be my guide on this angry sea.
If ferociously vice pursues me,
If in my pains death harasses me,
Help me, and drive away my woes !

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

HYMN TO LABOR by JOSE RIZAL

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.

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

THE SONG OF THE TRAVELER

This is the English translation of Jose Rizal's poem, CANTO DEL VIAJERO in Spanish which is found in this page and AWIT NG MANLALAKBAY in Tagalog which is found in this page.

The Song Of The Traveler


A withered leaf which flies uncertainly
And hurled about by furious hurricanes,
So goes the traveler about the world,
No guide, no hope, no fatherland, no love.

Anxiously he seeks a better fortune
And fickle fortune always takes to flight;
A shadow vain that mocks at his desire!
For her the wanderer has plowed the seas.

Driven on by hands invisible,
Wandering from land to weary land,
Only memories to keep him company,
Of loved ones and of bygone happier days.

A tomb perhaps upon the desert
Calls him--refuge sweet of peace,--
Where, by his country and the world forgotten,
Tranquil he may sleep who knew such pain.

And if they envy this sad traveler
When he speeds so swiftly round the world,
Ah, little do they know that in his soul
Exist an aching void for want of love.

Should the wanderer turn back to his country,
And to his home, it may be, make his way,
He would find but snow and ruins everywhere,
All love destroyed, and sepulchres,--no more.

On, then, traveler, pursue your journey,
Stranger to the land where you were born.
Letting others sing their songs of love
And feel their joys, you fare on again.

And traveler, as you go, do not turn back,
For none will shed a tear to say farewell,
Go, pilgrim, try to drown your sorrow,
Because the world but scoffs when strangers grieve.

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

My Retreat

My Retreat

by José Rizal

(A Translation from the Spanish by Nick Joaquin)

For Spanish version, see Me Retiro



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 bolders, 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 torrent

spills 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 traveled 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 everywhere, 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.




Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

My Last Farewell -English Version of Mi Ultimo Adios

My Last Farewell
English version

For original Spanish version, see Mi Ultimo Adios


For German translation, see "Mein Letztes Lebewohl"

For Bicol translation, see Huring Paaram.

Farewell, my adored Land, region of the sun caressed,
Pearl of the Orient Sea, our Eden lost,
With gladness I give you my Life, sad and repressed;
And were it more brilliant, more fresh and at its best,
I would still give it to you for your welfare at most.

On the fields of battle, in the fury of fight,
Others give you their lives without pain or hesitancy,
The place does not matter: cypress laurel, lily white,
Scaffold, open field, conflict or martyrdom's site,
It is the same if asked by home and Country.

I die as I see tints on the sky b'gin to show
And at last announce the day, after a gloomy night;
If you need a hue to dye your matutinal glow,
Pour my blood and at the right moment spread it so,
And gild it with a reflection of your nascent light!

My dreams, when scarcely a lad adolescent,
My dreams when already a youth, full of vigor to attain,
Were to see you, gem of the sea of the Orient,
Your dark eyes dry, smooth brow held to a high plane
Without frown, without wrinkles and of shame without stain.

My life's fancy, my ardent, passionate desire,
Hail! Cries out the soul to you, that will soon part from thee;
Hail! How sweet 'tis to fall that fullness you may acquire;
To die to give you life, 'neath your skies to expire,
And in your mystic land to sleep through eternity !

If over my tomb some day, you would see blow,
A simple humble flow'r amidst thick grasses,
Bring it up to your lips and kiss my soul so,
And under the cold tomb, I may feel on my brow,
Warmth of your breath, a whiff of your tenderness.

Let the moon with soft, gentle light me descry,
Let the dawn send forth its fleeting, brilliant light,
In murmurs grave allow the wind to sigh,
And should a bird descend on my cross and alight,
Let the bird intone a song of peace o'er my site.

Let the burning sun the raindrops vaporize
And with my clamor behind return pure to the sky;
Let a friend shed tears over my early demise;
And on quiet afternoons when one prays for me on high,
Pray too, oh, my Motherland, that in God may rest I.

Pray thee for all the hapless who have died,
For all those who unequalled torments have undergone;
For our poor mothers who in bitterness have cried;
For orphans, widows and captives to tortures were shied,
And pray too that you may see you own redemption.

And when the dark night wraps the cemet'ry
And only the dead to vigil there are left alone,
Don't disturb their repose, don't disturb the mystery:
If you hear the sounds of cithern or psaltery,
It is I, dear Country, who, a song t'you intone.

And when my grave by all is no more remembered,
With neither cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let it be plowed by man, with spade let it be scattered
And my ashes ere to nothingness are restored,
Let them turn to dust to cover your earthly space.

Then it doesn't matter that you should forget me:
Your atmosphere, your skies, your vales I'll sweep;
Vibrant and clear note to your ears I shall be:
Aroma, light, hues, murmur, song, moanings deep,
Constantly repeating the essence of the faith I keep.

My idolized Country, for whom I most gravely pine,
Dear Philippines, to my last goodbye, oh, harken
There I leave all: my parents, loves of mine,
I'll go where there are no slaves, tyrants or hangmen
Where faith does not kill and where God alone does reign.

Farewell, parents, brothers, beloved by me,
Friends of my childhood, in the home distressed;
Give thanks that now I rest from the wearisome day;
Farewell, sweet stranger, my friend, who brightened my way;
Farewell, to all I love. To die is to rest.

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell

A Las FLores de Heidelberg-with English Translation

A Las Flores De Heidelberg

Id a mi patria, id, extrangeras flores,
sembradas del viajero en el camino,
y bajo su azul cielo,
que guarda mis amores,
contad del peregrino
la fe que alienta por su patrio suelo!
id y decid ... decid que cuando el alba
vuestro caliz abrio por vez primera
cabe el Neckar helado,
le visteis silencioso a vuestro lado
pensando en su constante primavera.
Decid que cuando el alba,
que roba vuestro aroma,
cantos de amor jugando os susurraba,
el tambien murmuraba
cantos de amor en su natal idioma;
que cuando el sol la cumbre
del Koenigsthul en la manana dora
y con su tibia lumbre
anima el valle, el bosque y la espesura,
saluda a ese sol aun en su aurora,
al que en su patria en el cenit fulgura !
y contad aquel dia
cuando os cogia al borde del sendero,
entre ruinas del feudal castillo,
orilla al Neckar, o a la selva umbria.
Contad lo que os decia ,
cuando, con gran ciudado
entre las paginas de un libro usado
vuestras flexibles hojas oprimia.

Llevad, llevad, oh flores !
amor a mis amores
paz a mi pais y a su fecunda tierra,
fe a sus hombres, virtud a sus mujeres,
salud a dulces seres
que el paternal, sagrado hogar encierra ...

Cuando to queis la playa,
el beso os imprimo
depositadlo en ala de la brisa,
por que con ella vaya
y bese cuanto adora, amo y estimo.

Mas ay llegareis flores,
conservareis quizas vuestras colores,
pero lejos del patrio, heroico suelo
a quien debeis la vida:
que aroma es alma, y no abandona el cielo,
cuya luz viera en su nacer, ni olvida.

To The Flowers Of Heidelberg


Go to my country, go, foreign flowers,
Planted by the traveler on his way,
And there beneath that sky of blue
That over my beloved towers,
Speak for this traveler to say
What faith in his homeland he breathes to you.

Go and say. . . say that when the dawn
First drew your calyx open there
Beside the River Neckar chill,
You saw him standing by you, very still,
Reflecting on the primrose flush you wear.

Say that when the morning light
Her toll of perfume from you wrung,
While playfully she whispered, "How I love you!"
He too murmured here above you
Tender love songs in his native tongue.

That when the rising sun the height
Of Kainigsthul in early morn first spies,
And with its tepid light
Is pouring life in valley, wood, and grove,
He greets the sun as it begins to rise,
Which in his native land is blazing straight above.

And tell them of that day he staid
And plucked you from the border of the path,
Amid the ruins of the feudal castle,
By the River Neckar, and in the silvan shade.
Tell them what he told you
As tenderly he took
Your pliant leaves and pressed them in a book,
Where now its well worn pages close enfold you.

Carry, carry, flowers of Rhine,
Love to every love of mine,
Peace to my country and her fertile loam,
Virtue to her women, courage to her men,
Salute those darling ones again,
Who formed the sacred circle of our home.

And when you reach that shore,
Each kiss I press upon you now,
Deposit on the pinions of the wind,
And those I love and honor and adore
Will feel my kisses carried to their brow.

Ah, flowers, you may fare through,
Conserving still, perhaps, your native hue;
Yet, far from Fatherland, heroic loam
To which you owe your life,
The perfume will be gone from you;
For aroma is your soul; it cannot roam
Beyond the skies which saw it born, nor e'er forget


Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell


Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell

Song of Maria Clara

Song Of Maria Clara



For the original Spanish version, see Canto de Maria Clara

Sweet are the hours in one's own Native Land,
All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above;
Vivifying is the breeze that wafts over her fields;
Even death is gratifying and more tender is love.

Ardent kissed on a mother's lips are at play,
On her lap, upon the infant child's awakening,
The extended arms do seek her neck to entwine,
And the eyes at each other's glimpse are smiling.

It is sweet to die in one's own Native Land,
All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above;
And deathly is the breeze for one without.


Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell

To the Philippine Youth-English translation of A La Juventud Filipina

For Tagalog translation, see Sa Kabataang Pilipino

For the original Spanish version, see A la Juventud Filipino



To the Philippine Youth
Unfold, oh timid flower!
Lift up your radiant brow,
This day, Youth of my native strand!
Your abounding talents show
Resplendently and grand,
Fair hope of my Motherland!

Soar high, oh genius great,
And with noble thoughts fill their mind;
The honor's glorious seat,
May their virgin mind fly and find
More rapidly than the wind.

Descend with the pleasing light
Of the arts and sciences to the plain,
Oh Youth, and break forthright
The links of the heavy chain
That your poetic genius enchain.

See that in the ardent zone,
The Spaniard, where shadows stand,
Doth offer a shining crown,
With wise and merciful hand
To the son of this Indian land.

You, who heavenward rise
On wings of your rich fantasy,
Seek in the Olympian skies
The tenderest poesy,
More sweet than divine honey;

You of heavenly harmony,
On a calm unperturbed night,
Philomel's match in melody,
That in varied symphony
Dissipate man's sorrow's blight;

You at th' impulse of your mind
The hard rock animate
And your mind with great pow'r consigned
Transformed into immortal state
The pure mem'ry of genius great;

And you, who with magic brush
On canvas plain capture
The varied charm of Phoebus,
Loved by the divine Apelles,
And the mantle of Nature;

Run ! For genius' sacred flame
Awaits the artist's crowning
Spreading far and wide the fame
Throughout the sphere proclaiming
With trumpet the mortal's name
Oh, joyful, joyful day,
The Almighty blessed be
Who, with loving eagerness
Sends you luck and happiness.

Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell,A La Juventud Filipina

Our Mother Tongue

Our Mother Tongue
(A poem in Tagalog written by Rizal when he was eight years old)

IF truly a people dearly love
The tongue to them by Heaven sent,
They'll surely yearn for liberty
Like a bird above in the firmament.
BECAUSE by its language one can judge
A town, a barrio, and kingdom;
And like any other created thing
Every human being loves his freedom.
ONE who doesn't love his native tongue,
Is worse than putrid fish and beast;
AND like a truly precious thing
It therefore deserves to be cherished.
THE Tagalog language's akin to Latin,
To English, Spanish, angelical tongue;
For God who knows how to look after us
This language He bestowed us upon.
AS others, our language is the same
With alphabet and letters of its own,
It was lost because a storm did destroy
On the lake the bangka 1 in years bygone.



Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell

To the Philippines

To The Philippines

Aglowing and fair like a houri on high,
Full of grace and pure like the Morn that peeps
When in the sky the clouds are tinted blue,
Of th' Indian land, a goddess sleeps.

The light foam of the son'rous sea
Doth kiss her feet with loving desire;
The cultured West adores her smile
And the frosty Pole her flow'red attire.

With tenderness, stammering, my Muse
To her 'midst undines and naiads does sing;
I offer her my fortune and bliss:
Oh, artists! her brow chaste ring
With myrtle green and roses red
And lilies, and extol the Philippines!



Jose Rizal biography,timeline,Jose Rizal's poems,Mi Ultimo Adios,My Last Farewell