Jose Rizal's Poems

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Whenever people of a country truly love
The language which by heaven they were taught to use
That country also surely liberty pursue
As does, the bird which soars to freer space above.

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

Whenever knows not how to love his native tongue
Is worse than any beast or evil swelling fish.
To make our language richer ought to be our wish
The same as any mother loves to feed her young.

Tagalog and the Latin language are the same
And English and Castilian and the angel’s tongue;
And God, whose watchful in the speech we claim.
Our mother tongue, like all the highest that we know
Had alphabet and letter of its very own;
But these were lost-by furious waves were overthrown
Like bancas in the stormy sea, long years ago.


Why do the scented flowers
In fragrant fray
Rizal each other’s flowers
This festive day?

Why is sweet melody bruited
In the sylvan dale,
Harmony sweet and fluted
Like the nightingale?

Why do the birds sing so
In the gender grass,
Flitting from bough to bough
With the winds that pass?
And why does the crystal spring
Run among the flowers
While lullaby zephyrs sing
Like its crystal showers?

I see the dawn in the east
With beauty endowed.
Why goes she to a feast
In a carmine cloud?

Sweet mother, they celebrate
You natal day
The rose with her scent innate,
The bird with his lay

(Mi Ultimo Adios)

Farewell, dear Fatherland, clime the sun caress’d,
Peal 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 blest,
Still would I give three, nor count the cost.

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

I die just when I see the dawn break
Though the gloom of night, to herald the day;
And if color is lacking my blood shalt take,
Pour’d out at need for they dear sake,
To dye with its crimson the walking 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 sea,
From gloom and grief, from care and sorrow free;
No blush on thy brow, no tear in thine eyes.

Dream of my life, my living and burning desire,
All hail! Cris the soul that is now to tale fight;
All hail! And sweet it is for thee to expire;
To die for thy sake, that thou may’st aspires;
And sleep in thy blossom eternity’s long night.

If over my grave some day thou sees grow,
In the grassy sod, a humble flower,
Draw to thy lips and kiss my soul so,
While I feel on my brow in the cold tomb below
The tough 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 sad lament over me keen;
And if on my cross a bird should be seen,
Let it thrill there is hymn of peace to my aches.

Let the sun draw vapors up to the sky,
And heavenward in purity bear my tardy protest;
Let some kind soul o’er my untimely fate sigh,
And in the still evening a pray be lifted on high,
From there, O my country, that in God I may rest.

Pray for all those that hapless have died,
For all who have suffered the unmeasr’d pain;
For our mothers that bitterly their woes have cried;
For widows and orphans, for captives by torture tried;
And 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 see;
Break not my repose or thy mystery profound,
And perchance thou mayst bear a sad hymn resound;...
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