A Poem That Has No TitleTo my Creator I sing Who did soothe me in my great loss; To the Merciful and Kind Who in my troubles gave me repose. Thou with that pow'r of thine Said: Live! And with life myself I found; And shelter gave me thou And a soul impelled to the good Like a compass whose point to the North is bound. Thou did make me descend From honorable home and respectable stock, And a homeland thou gavest me Without limit, fair and rich Though fortune and prudence it does lack. A Tribute to My Town 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! Child Jesus 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? Education Gives Luster to Motherland 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. Where wise education raises a throne Sprightly youth are invigorated. of dazzling glow. A benefactress. And it's th' education noble and pure Of human life the balsam sure. The river banks through which she slips. And just as the gentle aura's puff Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue: So education with a wise. It breaks immortality's neck. His achievements on sapphires are engraved. and as from the high mount above The pure rivulet flows. Such true education proudly gives . And like the spring that nourishes The plants. undulates.Wise education. Who with firm stand error they subdue And with noble ideas are exalted. Contemptible crime before it is halted: It humbles barbarous nations And it makes of savages champions. 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. Such is one by wise education steered He holds the Country's reins unconquered. From her lips the waters crystalline Gush forth without end. And like fair aurora of gold and red She overspreads her colors bold. And like the golden sun of the morn Whose rays resplendent shedding gold. For in the noble breasts of her sons Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs. Which seeks her secrets beneficent And in the love for the good her breast she incites. exalts the human band. of divine virtue. And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds. art and science are born Man. And to beautiful nature all she concedes. Man's placid repose and earthly life To education he dedicates Because of her. 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. The Country pays him a thousand honors. vital breath Inspires an enchanting virtue. the bushes of the meads. 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. So education beyond measure Gives the Country tranquility secure. She puts the Country in the lofty seat Of endless glory. And prudent doctrines of her faith The forces weak of evil subdue. guiding hand. She goes on spilling her placid wealth. So whoever procures education wise Until the height of honor may rise. That weary of the horror great So frightened calmly off they stave. Felicitation I If Philomela with harmonious tongue .The pleasure of virtue to young and old And she enlightens out Motherland dear As she offers endless glow and luster. So we as well. Now let your eyes be lifted heavenward To him who is the solace of all men And loving Father. First Inspiration . full of a sweet contentment. setting aside all [worldly] predilections. II As the sea pilot. These clamorous vivas that from the heart resound Be pleased to accept. Canticles sends. Gazes upon his darling vessel safe And come to port.To blond Apollo. soften The ruder torments. 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. VII And from ourselves that in such loving accents Salute you everywhere you celebrate. And may its sweetness in disaster V VI So. who so bravely fought Tempestuous waters in the dark of night. Dear Antonino. IV From amorous wife and amiable Emilio Sweetly receive an unsurpassed affection. who manifests his face Behind high hill or overhanging mountain. Salute you and your very noble saint With tender music and fraternal measures. dear mother.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. Flower Among Flowers . is they feast your day of bloom: the rose with its perfume. the dawn's enchanting face among red clouds appearing? The reason. the bird with its harmonies. 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. 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. more fair than on other days. that the breast may savor the bliss it knew. If then. you who gladden all you espy. that the wind moves to a gentle crooning. . like a fairy. a single day of your career. spare me an hour of your cheer. Wind of heaven. and to be a joy for the heart to capture. you enhance the joy of those on whom you glance with the magic charm God gave to you. you who perhaps came down to earth to bring the lonely solace and mirth. and that without thorns blossom the roses in your clime. wind of love. candour and fragrance from above. oh.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.Flower among flowers. They say you brighten the soul that mourns when dark clouds gather. soft bud swooning. you who smile and will not sigh. They say that into your dawn you bear the immaculate soul a prisoner -. the moment. goodbye! I take my leave. what pain! . Leonor.Goodbye to Leonor And so it has arrived -.the fatal instant. Goodbye. the date. leaving behind with you my lover's heart! Goodbye. O Melancholy absence! Ah. the dismal injunction of my cruel fate. Leonor: from here I now depart. when I must separate myself from you. so it has come at last -. Go! To the field to till the land. Of the country wealth and vigor! For it brow serene's exalted. MAIDENS: H ail! Hail! Praise to labour. Chorus: CHILDREN: Teac h.Hymn To Labor On returning joy awaits you. Will the Filipino keep watch. us ye the laborious work To pursue your footsteps we wish. And if fate is adverse. home and Motherland.. Hard the land may turn to be. life. For tomorrow when country calls us We may be able your task to finish. When the evening brings repose. they're worthy 'f their sires of yore!' Incense does not honor the dead As does a son with glory and valor. Shall know the task to continue. For the country. It's her blood. 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. . For the wife keeps home faithfully. Chorus: Chorus: For the Motherland in war. Scorching the rays of the sun above. Chorus: WIVES: Go to work with spirits high.. wife and children All will be easy to our love. knowledge and country. Inculcates love in her children For virtue. For the Motherland in peace. For the labour of man sustains Fam'ly. He will live until life will cease! MEN: Now the East is glowing with light. And on seeing us the elders will say: 'Look. and ardor. the wife. in Dapitan and all its region Talisay has no match! Our reservoir is unequalled. the elements —land. and no dark night. we shall catch him. if the devil himself comes forward. the sword— companions of a brave man. dead or alive! Talisayon. both body and soul. the young face tranquil. We ransack the sand in our frolic. In the struggles that await the grown man. Our hands can wield at the same time the knife. nor the storm. the picket. our arms reach far and wide. No darkness. that we fear. his peace. but our spirits are fresh and healthy. dear treasure of childhood. We are children that nothing frightens. nor the thunder. We are children. our minds received their formation. a childhood you guide and please. by your grace. our precipice is a deep chasm. the arm ready. our bancas no banca in the world can catch! We study the problems of science and the history of the nation. faith and reason we span. ever forward march elate! You. no savage tempest. and when we go rowing. Talisay. not the waves. firm and faithful. through the caves and the thickets we ramble. the pen and the spade. in the tomb. O sacred asylum where I passed my childhood days! In your valley covered with flowers and shaded by fruitful orchards. sea and air— shall dominate! The sandy beach of Dapitan and the rocks of its lofty mountain are your throne. our houses are built upon rocks. subject to pain and sorrow. children born late. Long live luxuriant Talisay! Our voices exalt you in chorus. in a fix we shall know how to fight. the rifle. victorious. the people call us: a great soul in a little body.Hymn to Talisay Hail. your memory shall be his amulet. and your name. . strong men shall we be tomorrow that can guard a family right. clear star. We speak some three or four languages. and once more round the world with growing praise shall sound the name of the Tagalog race. but till that day arrives for which we weep. We shall pour out our blood in a great flood to liberate the parent sod. desire shall sleep. love shall be mute.Kundiman Now mute indeed are tongue and heart: love shies away. joy stands apart. the country was subdued and it submitted. . But O the sun will shine again! Itself the land shall disenchain. Neglected by its leaders and defeated. Oh. When sweet 'toxicating scent From the flowers I inhale Which at the dawn they exhale When at us it begins to peep. joy and boon. It's for thee my fervent pray'rs. When I remember the sighs Of the breeze that on my brow Sweet and caressing did blow With coolness full of delight. My cradle. Tender childhood. joy and repose. Oh precious infancy. Genius of good who kindly dispose Of his blessings with amour. I sadly recall your face. While I gazed on your azure sky Neither love nor tenderness Failed me. I remember a simple town.Memories of My Town When I recall the days That saw my childhood of yore Beside the verdant shore Of a murmuring lagoon. Of harmonious melodies. yes! With uncertain pace I trod your forest lands. That a mother lovingly Did succeed to embellish. Beside the cool lagoon The seat of all my wish. Bring back my gentle hours As do the birds when the flow'rs Would again begin to blow! But. That drive away my sorrow! Return thee to my heart. Saw I God in the grandeur Of your woods which for centuries stand. Never did I understand In your bosom what sorrows were. When I look at the lily white Fills up with air violent And the stormy element On the sand doth meekly sleep. 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. alas. adieu! E'er watch For your peace. 'cause my happiness In the heart of nature rests there. Rich fountain of happiness. It's for thee my constant desire Knowledge ever to acquire And may God keep your candour! . beautiful town. and why. or call the night when day begins to smile. I sang aghast? Or are you maybe throwing in my face my rank ingratitude. Why ask for those unintellectual verses that once.Miss C. ambition. because it's destitute of air and light Behold them: my poor verses. 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. may you never know why! For the reason brings melancholy but may set you laughing. a young soul. . insane with grief. my damned brood and sorrow suckled each and every brat! Oh. and maybe they themselves will tell you what. a passion and its throes Oh. I sing not of love? Oh. not a lovely flower. dreams of the soul. 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. Down with my corpse into the grave shall go another corpse that's buried in my stuffing! Something impossible.O. y R. they know well to what they owe their being. madness. my bitter past? Why resurrect unhappy memories now when the heart awaits from love a sign. on my cross let some bird tell its message. Let the winds murmur and sigh. Sweet to eternally sleep in thy lap. What matters way or place the Cyprus. Vision I followed from far. . Far afield. and the sun in his rising Mayhap will touch it with gold.My Last Thought Land I adore. There may some friendly heart lament my parting untimely. Pray for the bitter grief of our mothers. she smiles through the cowl of the darkness. the laurel. farewell! thou land of the southern sun's choosing! Pearl of the Orient seas! our forfeited Garden of Eden! Joyous I yield up for thee my sad life. rich grass that covers my rest in thy bosom. in the din and rush of maddening battle. O land of enchantment ! If in the deep. the soft. tremulous blossom. Some day thou seest upspring a lowly. and dreams of my strong young manhood. the lily. And if at eventide a soul for my tranquil sleep prayeth. Pray for those who remain to suffer such torture in prisons. Dreams of my childhood and youth. Let the calm light of the moon fall around me. warm breath of thy kisses. the chant of my spirit. . on the hour ! pour it out. may I feel on myforehead descending. and greeting again! . the sword or inglorious torture. rose-strewn. Loosed from the rain by the brazen sun. that the vision may rise to fulfilment. Gibbet or open field. Pray thou too. Pray for those who go down to death through unspeakable torments. Deep in the chilly tomb. for thee and thy happiness still would I give it. and were it far brighter. Hast thou need of purple to garnish her pathway? Here is my blood. and breathing thine air in the death-throe. desire that spurred on and consumed me! Greeting! my parting soul cries. Young. will lend it the sheen of his glory. thou gem of the Orient ocean ! Tearless thine eyes so deep. nor wavered nor paused in the giving. and dawn's fleeting splendor. Lay there thy lips. 'tis mysoul. O my fatherland! for my peaceful reposing. as they mount again. . unmarred thy sweet forehead. When 'tis the hearth and the country that call for the life's immolation? Dawn's faint lights bar the east. Others have laid down their lives. Just as I die. O my country! Beautiful is it to fall. unbent. let clouds of soft vapor Bear to the skies. What were they all but to see. Giving my life for thy life. and I shall be space in thy meadows. that thou shouldst forget me ! I shall be air in thy streets. and seek not to lay death's mystery open. Break not our rest. I shall be vibrant speech in thine ears. and loved song forever repeating my message. Leaving the dead alone with the dead.our widows. our orphans. Light and shout. Mine is the hand. my country. there cleave the earth open. no cross nor stone marketh. Oh. So shall my ashes at last be one with thy hills and thy valleys. If now and then thou shouldst hear the string of a lute or a zithern. dear country. When our still dwelling-place wraps night's dusky mantle about her. When my tomb. . There let the laborer guide his plough. that all have forgot. pray too for thyself. Little 'twill matter then. to watch till the morning. on the way to thy final redemption. and mine is the voice that is singing. shall be fragrance and color. its floor is brittle bamboo. my heart echoes the sound of its sorrow on the sands. its bright smile animates me in the limpid mornings.My Retreat Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf. the sea is everything! Its sovereign mass brings to me atoms of a myriad faraway lands. there is no boastful man. only the forests and the sea do I have near. is my rustic cabin. The sea. washes it with its spray. . The barking of the dog. of no worth. and when at the end of day my faith has proven futile. strumming on its invisible zither unceasingly. foaming and aboil— to hurl itself with a frenzied roaring toward the sea. the waves narrate with many a sigh to the mild wind histories that were lost in the dark night of time. seeking in the still serenity of the woods repose to my intellect and silence to my grief. I planted my humble hut beneath a pleasant orchard. but come the time of the rains. The overflowing brook. the wandering breeze is cool. Its roof is fragile nipa. no nuisance of a neighbor to impose himself on my mind or to disturb my passage. but on the lap of the eternal mount it slumbers and night and day is lulled by the crooning of the sea. it is certain. and an impetuous torrent spills over rocks and chasms—hoarse. that from the shadowy jungle descends between huge bolders. its beams and posts are rough as roughhewn wood can be. 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. At night it is a mystery! … Its diaphanous element is carpeted with thousands and thousands of lights that climb. the twittering of the birds. the firmament is brilliant. If the sky is serene. meekly flows the spring. the hoarse voice of the kalaw are all that I hear. that cheers my spirit when my spirit’s a lonesome wraith. So pass the days of my life in my obscure retreat. and I believe the day will shine when the Idea shall defeat brute force as well. It is my faithful friend that never turns against me. by a fit of trembling seized. Then do the mountain ranges on high reverberate. but calm is re-established with the approach of dawning and forthwith an intrepid little fishing vessel begins to navigate the weary waves anew.‘Tis said they tell of the first morning on the earth. that in my sleepless nights keeps watch with me and prays with me. the dark depths of the forest resound. when all doubt. across the air move cries that terrify the spirit. cast out of the world where once I dwelt: such is my rare good fortune. a chorus of voices praying. who haunt my memory. Faith do I have. the trees stir far and wide. The wild night hisses. long ago. drowned in the sea. I live with the remembrance of those that I have loved and hear their names still spoken. one sees the sea afire with flames of green and blue. of the first kiss with which the sun inflamed her breast. and. hisses. confused and terrifying. . 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. alone infuses me with faith. But when the winds rage in the darkness of the night and the unquiet waves commence their agony. and shares with me my exile and my cabin. 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. their spirits say that they are on their way to the plain. some already are dead. a lamentation that seems to come from those who. summoned by the dead to a mortuary feast. the cattle moan. 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. silences and sighs. a weary swallow. Hurled upon a rock of the country I adore. the future ruined. dreams of rose and gold. Across the fields and rivers of my native town perhaps has traveled the breeze that now I breathe by chance. no health to bring me cheer. and ruins everywhere. I left. if now no longer as merry. of my entire existence the solitary treasure. On seeing the same moon. like once. now bear the superscription of fidelity. scarcely a youth. squandered in foreign lands the April of my life. as flawless and refulgent as in the days that saw my first illusions start. when I desired. suddenly fiercely roared a violent hurricane and I found my wings broken. no home. as silvery as before. . offering a thousand crowns to immortality. And afterwards.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. and vagrant everywhere. somewhat serious I find you. my dwelling place demolished. I feel within me the ancient melancholy revive. faith now sold to others. you come to me anew. to go back to the nest of those for whom I care. a thousand memories of love and vows awaken: a patio. and blushes of delight … A butterfly athirst for radiances and colors. an azotea. convictions of a youth that was healthy and sincere. and yet your face beloved. No more are you. a beach. 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. my land and my affections. if now no longer as vivid. full of fire and life. dreaming of other skies and of a larger strife. the same that once enkindled my fervent enthusiasm and turned the blood ebullient within my youthful heart. with no terrors. I see the heavens shining. a leafy bower. I feel the same breeze kissing my autumnal brow. with no qualms. . I thank you that in good hour suspended by uncertain flight to bring me down to the bosom of my native earth. hurricane. I thank you. the cup of consolation. I found in my land a refuge under a pleasant orchard. serene tranquility.You offer me. repose to my intellect and silence to my grief. you come to reawaken the years of youthful mirth. winds of heaven. Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf. O illusions. and in its shadowy forests. AND like a truly precious thing It therefore deserves to be cherished. It was lost because a storm did destroy On the lake the bangka 1 in years bygone. ONE who doesn't love his native tongue. And like any other created thing Every human being loves his freedom. a barrio. angelical tongue. THE Tagalog language's akin to Latin. Is worse than putrid fish and beast. For God who knows how to look after us This language He bestowed us upon. . our language is the same With alphabet and letters of its own. AS others. To English. Spanish. BECAUSE by its language one can judge A town.Our Mother Tongue IF truly a people dearly love The tongue to them by Heaven sent. and kingdom. They'll surely yearn for liberty Like a bird above in the firmament. without north. A tomb perhaps in the desert. wanderer! Look not behind you nor grieve as you leave again. without country or love! Anxious. he seeks joy everywhere and joy eludes him and flees. Impelled by a hand invisible. a vain shadow that mocks his yearning and for which he sails the seas. begone! Begone. they know not of the emptiness in his soul. shall return perhaps to his shore. and shall find only ice and ruin. he shall discover. he shall wander from place to place. and graves nothing more. where no love exists. who are happy but you. 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. without soul. memories shall keep him company of loved ones. a stranger now and alone! Let the others sing of loving. of happy days. . a sweet refuge. perished loves. wanderer: stifle your sorrows! the world laughs at another's pain. Begone. Begone.Song of the Wanderer Dry leaf that flies at random till it's seized by a wind from above: so lives on earth the wanderer. The pilgrim shall return to his country. wanderer! In your own country. Let the dawn send forth its fleeting. If you need a hue to dye your matutinal glow. Let the bird intone a song of peace o'er my site. more fresh and at its best. Pearl of the Orient Sea. that will soon part from thee. My dreams when already a youth. . my ardent. a whiff of your tenderness. I would still give it to you for your welfare at most. A simple humble flow'r amidst thick grasses. Warmth of your breath. conflict or martyrdom's site. And gild it with a reflection of your nascent light! My dreams. Let the burning sun the raindrops vaporize And with my clamor behind return pure to the sky. after a gloomy night. full of vigor to attain. Pour my blood and at the right moment spread it so. region of the sun caressed. Let the moon with soft. passionate desire. Your dark eyes dry. open field. brilliant light. lily white. It is the same if asked by home and Country. 'neath your skies to expire. in the fury of fight. I may feel on my brow. my adored Land. To die to give you life. gentle light me descry. Bring it up to your lips and kiss my soul so. The place does not matter: cypress laurel. On the fields of battle. In murmurs grave allow the wind to sigh. Were to see you. gem of the sea of the Orient. without wrinkles and of shame without stain. Scaffold. you would see blow. smooth brow held to a high plane Without frown. our Eden lost. sad and repressed. Others give you their lives without pain or hesitancy. when scarcely a lad adolescent.The Last Poem of Rizal Farewell. With gladness I give you my Life. And should a bird descend on my cross and alight. And in your mystic land to sleep through eternity! If over my tomb some day. Hail! Cries out the soul to you. And under the cold tomb. I die as I see tints on the sky b'gin to show And at last announce the day. Hail! How sweet 'tis to fall that fullness you may acquire. And were it more brilliant. My life's fancy. For all those who unequalled torments have undergone. Give thanks that now I rest from the wearisome day. loves of mine. For our poor mothers who in bitterness have cried. And when my grave by all is no more remembered.Let a friend shed tears over my early demise. Dear Philippines. beloved by me. Pray too. It is I. widows and captives to tortures were shied. for whom I most gravely pine. Constantly repeating the essence of the faith I keep. your vales I'll sweep. Farewell. Don't disturb their repose. moanings deep. oh. With neither cross nor stone to mark its place. to my last goodbye. To die is to rest. My idolized Country. light. I'll go where there are no slaves. Farewell. Farewell. Then it doesn't matter that you should forget me: Your atmosphere. hues. For orphans. parents. that in God may rest I. Let them turn to dust to cover your earthly space. to all I love. oh. murmur. And when the dark night wraps the cemet'ry And only the dead to vigil there are left alone. And pray too that you may see your own redemption. And on quiet afternoons when one prays for me on high. brothers. Vibrant and clear note to your ears I shall be: Aroma. tyrants or hangmen Where faith does not kill and where God alone does reign. Pray thee for all the hapless who have died. Friends of my childhood. who brightened my way. song. . my Motherland. dear Country. harken There I leave all: my parents. your skies. with spade let it be scattered And my ashes ere to nothingness are restored. in the home distressed. a song t'you intone. Let it be plowed by man. don't disturb the mystery: If you hear the sounds of cittern or psaltery. sweet stranger. who. my friend. where friendly shines the sun above! Life is the breeze that sweeps the meadows. 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. love. most tender. where friendly shines the sun above! Death is the breeze for him who has no country. How sweet to die for the native country.The Song of Maria Clara Sweet the hours in the native country. and no love! . tranquil is death. no mother. A poet was I. 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. O land that is never forgotten! And these have taught me to sing: the birds with their melody. as without peace I tread this desert of no surprises. that. do not ask of my heart that languishes. 'tis true. love. I feel that my soul agonizes and that my spirit is dead. in my madness. a tree despoiled and shriveled. instead of the weal I sought. the cataracts with their force and. While in my childhood days I could smile upon her sunshine. no longer repeats the echo of my old songs of mirth. where perfume is the atmosphere and where life is a dream. I sailed across the vast ocean. I left her! My native hearth. III A scarce-grown plant I seem. the sea around me wrought the spectre of death and sadness. seething. she lies when she laughs and thrills as she lies in her lamentation. . but now that time has vanished when indulgent love or friendship called me a poet too. from the earth up to the sky!' II V There was a time. to say to the swift wind: 'Fly and propagate her renown! Praise her from zone to zone. craving to change my fate. on the swollen shores. desire. but not a note can I waken nor will my muse inspire! She stammers coldly and babbles when tortured by my mind.They Ask Me for Verses! the murmuring of the sea. The dreams of younger hours. I felt in my bosom. Oh. not noting. for I wanted with my verses. songs of love! For. enthusiasm. a fierce volcano ablaze. with my breath. have been left there under the skies of that fair land of flowers. IV I They bid me strike the lyre so long now mute and broken. for in my sad isolation my soul nor frolics nor feels. uprooted from the Orient. for he who would love much has also much to suffer. one simply asks the garçon for a cup of coffee please. Gone are the days of peace. Muse that in the past inspired me to sing of the throes of love: go and repose. no poet cares to use it. when among the people who criticize and maltreat me. What I need is a sword. the world being sick and tired of someone else’s groaning? For what. arid the soul. a dark jail for your shrine. no Helicon is invoked. rivers of gold. sometimes to weep. . to meditate. an impiety. when a hurricane is roaring.To My Muse No more is the muse invoked. to offer combat. there’s not a heart that beats with mine. for my country vows to give you fetters for your laurels. I have a need to reason. 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. when the flowers were enough to alleviate the soul of its sufferings and sorrows. Flee also. where the breath cannot mix it with a rhyme that evaporates in the air. a joke and an irony. the lips frigid. that one married. muse! Go forth and seek a region more fine. for fate seals with disaster everything that I touch. Instead of tender stanzas that move the heart’s sympathy. and acrid prose. the lyre is out of fashion. the days of love’s gay chorus. for there it well should be. one now writes a poem with a pen of steel. Now if imagination demands some poesies. One by one from my side go those I loved so much: this one dead. by other things are the dreamy young inspired to passion. would it not then be madness to keep you by my side deprived of liberty? Why sing when destiny calls to serious meditation. If to suppress the truth be a shame. no heart to meet me? Let sleep in the depths of oblivion all that I feel. my fancies and my lyrics slumber. say that to your sublime address ever responded in me a song for those who grieve and a challenge for those who oppress.As sleep in the deep abyss the monsters of the sea. and we shall sing that strain in chorus though in the sepulcher we lie. like a queen of the East arises. I have even forgotten it! But. . But. I know well that your favors you lavish without measure only during that time of flowers and first loves unclouded by displeasure. I cannot for my country die. broken the sword. 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. Many years have passed since with the ardent heat of a kiss you burned my brow … That kiss has now turned cold. before departing. a white pearl rescued from the sty: return then and intone with vigor the sacred hymn of a new existence. united. so let my tribulations. faith being faded. once again to warm my fantasy you will come nigh when. sacred imagination. buried in me. and my country. But if with laurel triumph crowns our efforts. my love to my loved ones. your fragrances you will lose! For fragrance is a spirit that never can forsake and never forgets the sky that saw its birth. O foreign flowers. or in a forest nook. 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. Carry. he hails that sun. the forest. And tell of that day when he collected you along the way among the ruins of a feudal castle. 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. honor and love! But O you will arrive there. O flowers. between the pages of a worn-out book he pressed the flexible petals that he took. the glade. flowers. sown by the traveler along the road. and under that blue heaven that watches over my loved ones. . thinking of her constant vernal clime. faith to its men and virtue to its women. but far from your native heroic earth to which you owe your life and worth. go. murmured canticles of love in his native tongue. Recount the words he said as. too. When you reach that shore. and you will keep perhaps your vivid hues. Say that when dawn which steals your aroma was whispering playful love songs to your young sweet petals. with great care. he.To the Flowers of Heidelberg Go to my country. peace to my country and its fecund loam. you saw him silent beside you. on the banks of the Neckar. health to the gracious beings that dwell within the sacred paternal home. still in its dawning. carry. that in his country in full zenith blazes. 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 Spaniard'a holy hand A crown's resplendent band Proffers to this Indian land. where now you stand. Your spirit free to blight. And the memory bright Of thy genius' light Makest immortal in its strength . Thou. And bring down inspiration. thou genius grand. who by sharp strife Wakest thy mind to life . whose voice divine Rivals Philomel's refrain And with varied line Through the night benign Frees mortality from pain. To fig it on the simple canvas' length . Softer than ambrosial rain. Thou. for thy land! So bless the Power to-day That places in thy way This favor and this fortune grand! . to Apelles dear . Or by the brush's magic art Takest from nature's store a part. and then the sacred fire Of thy genius to the laurel may aspire . Raise the eager mind to higher station. Day. O happy day.To the Philippine Youth Hold high the brow serene. And thou. in accents clear Of Phoebus. Let the bright sheen Of your grace be seen. Swifter than the wind's violation. Go forth. Seeking from Olympian skies Songs of sweetest strain. And in victory acclaim. See how in flaming zone Amid the shadows thrown. Fair Filipinas. and there untie The chains that heavy lie. Fair hope of my fatherland! Come now. Come down with pleasing light Of art and science to the fight. Thou. To spread around the fame. O youth. who now wouldst rise On wings of rich emprise. Through wider spheres the human name. O youth. With thy mighty hand. To The Philippines Warm and beautiful like a houri of yore. amorous kisses. while the intellectual West adores her smile. I offer her my fortune and my fate. her flower veil. and the old hoary Pole. and exalt the Philippines! . and flowering greens and lilies. The small waves of the sonorous sea assail her feet with ardent. O artists. as gracious and as pure as the break of dawn when darling clouds take on a sapphire tone. purple roses. most enthusiastic and elate. sleeps a goddess on the Indian shore. My Muse. crown her brow immaculate. sings to her among naiads and undines. With myrtle. To the Virgin Mary Mary. From your abode. You are my mother. and you shall be my guide on this wild sea. my stronghold. and shall be my life. 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. enthroned on heaven's height. if death harasses me with agony: come to my aid and dissipate my sorrow! . If vice pursues me madly on the morrow. 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. my defense most thorough. Mary.