A Collection of Poems of Dr. Jose Rizal

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One of the works of Rizal was shown through his poems.

One of the works of Rizal was shown through his poems.

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  • 1. A Collection of Poems of Dr. Jose RizalPrepared by: Rea M. Reyes BSED 4-2 MAPEH MAJOR
  • 2. Mi Ultimo Adios / Huling Paalam Salin ito ng huling sinulat ni Rizal nguni’t walang pamagat. Sinulat niya ito sa Fort Santiago, isinilid sa kusinilyang dealkohol, at ibinigay sa kapatid na si Trinidad nang huling dumalaw sa kaniya bago siya (Rizal) barilin.
  • 3. Paalam na, sintang lupang tinubuan, Bayang masagana sa init ng araw, Edeng maligaya sa ami’y pumanaw At perlas ng dagat sa dakong Silangan. Inihahandog ko ng ganap na tuwa Sa iyo yaring buhay na lanta na’t aba; Naging dakila ma’y iaalay rin nga Kung dahil sa iyong ikatitimawa. Ang nanga sa digmaan dumog sa paglaban Handog din sa iyo ang kanilang buhay, Hirap ay di pansin at di gunamgunam Ang pagkaparool o pagtagumpay. Bibitaya’t madlang mabangis na sakit O pakikibakang lubhang mapanganib, Pawang titiisin kung ito ang nais Ng baya’t tahanang pinakaiibig. Ako’y mamamatay ngayong minamalas Ang kulay ng langit na nanganganinag Ibinababalang araw ay sisikat Sa kabila niyang mapanglaw na ulap. Kung dugo ang iyong kinakailangan Sa ikadidilag ng iyong pagsilang, Dugo ko’y ibubo’t sa isa man lamang Nang gumigiti mong sinag ay kuminang.
  • 4. Ang mga nasa ko, mulang magkaisip, Magpahanggang ngayon maganap ang bait, Ang ikaw’y makitnag hiyas na marikit Ng dagat Silangan na nakaliligid. Noo mo’y maningning at sa mga mata Mapait na luha bakas ma’y wala na, Wala ka ng poot, wala ng balisa, Walang kadungua’t munti mang pangamba, Sa sandaling buhay maalab kong nais Ang kagalingan mo’t ang paiwang sulit Ng kaluluwa king gayak ng aalis: Ginhawa’y kamtan mo! Anong pagkarikit! Nang maaba’t ikaw’y mapataas lamang, Mamatay at upang mabigyan kang buihay, Malibing sa lupang puspos ng karika’t Sa silong ng iyong langit ay mahimlay. Kung sa ibang araw ikaw’y may mapansin Nipot na bulaklak sa aba kong libing, Sa gitna ng mga damong masisinsin, Hagka’t ang halik mo’y itaos sa akin. Sa samyo ng iyong pagsuyong matamis, Mataos na taghoy ng may sintang sibsib, Bayang tumaggap noo ko ng init, Na natatabunan ng lupang malamig.
  • 5. Bayan mong ako’y malasin ng buwan Sa liwang niyang hilano’t malamlam; Bayan ihatid sa aking liwayway Ang banaang niyang dagling napaparam. Bayaang humalik ang simoy ng hangin; Bayaang sa huning masaya’y awitin Ng darapong ibon sa kurus ng libing Ang buhay payapang ikinaaaliw. Bayaang ang araw na lubhang maningas Pawiin ang ulan, gawing pawang ulap, Maging panganuring sa langit umakyat, At ang aking daing ay mapakilangkap. Bayaang ang aking maagang pagpanw, Itangis ng isnag lubos na nagmamahal; Kung may umalala sa akin ng dasal, Ako’y iyo sanang idalangin naman. Idalangin mo rin ang di nagkapalad, Na nangamatay na’t yaong nanganhirap sa daming pasakit, at ang lumalangap naming mga ina luhang masaklap. Idalangin sampo ng bawa’t ulila at nangapipiit na tigib ng dusa; idalangin mo ring ikaw’y matubos na sa pagkaaping laong binata.
  • 6. Kung nababalot na ang mga libingan Ng sapot na itim ng gabing mapanglaw, at wala ng tanod kundi pawing patay, huwang gambalain ang katahimikan. Pagpitagan mo ang hiwagang lihim, at mapapakinggan ang tinig marahil, ng isang saltero: Ito nga’y ako ring inaawitanka ng aking paggiliw. Kung ang libingan kong limot na ang madla ay wala nang kurus at bato mang tanda sa nangangabubukid ay ipaubayang bungkali’t isabog ang natipong lupa. Ang mga abo ko’y bago pailanglang mauwi sa wala na pinaggalingan, ay makalt munag parang kapupunanng iyong alabok sa lupang tuntungan. Sa gayo’y walaa ng anoman sa akin, na limutin mo ma’t aking lilibutin ang himpapawid mo kaparanga’t hangin at ako sa iyo’y magiging taginting. Bango, tinig, higing, awit na masaya liwanag aat kulay na lugod ng mata’t uulit-ulitin sa tuwi-tuwina.
  • 7. Ako’y yayao na sa bayang payapa, na walang alipi’t punoing mapang- aba, doo’y di nanatay ang paniniwala at ang naghahari Diyos na dakila. Paalam anak, magulang, kapatid, bahagi ng puso’t unang nakaniig, ipagpasalamat ang aking pag-alis sa buhay na itong lagi ng ligalig. Paalam na liyag, tanging kaulayaw, taga ibang lupang aking katuwaan, paaalam sa inyo, mga minamahal; mamatay ay ganap na katahimikan.
  • 8. Our Mother Tongue A poem originally in Tagalog written by Rizal when he was only eight years old
  • 9. 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 by gone.
  • 10. Hymn to Labor Salin sa tulang “Himno al Trabajo” na sinulat ni Rizal sa kahilingan ng kaniyang mga kaibigang taga-Lipaa, Batangas upang awitin sa pag-diriwang dahil sa pagiging lungsod ng Lipa. Inihandog niya ang tula sa masisipag na tao ng Lipa. Pinuri niyang maigi ang paggawa’t kasipagan ng tao “ Paggawa’y purihin na siyang sa baya’y nagbibigay-ningning.”
  • 11. 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.
  • 12. (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.
  • 13. Imno sa Paggawa (Wikang Tagalog)
  • 14. KORO: Dahilan sa Bayan sa pagdirigmaan, Dahil sa Bayan din sa kapayapaan, Itong Pilipino ay maasahang Marunong mabuhay o kaya’y mamatay. (Mga Lalaki): Nakukulayan na ang dakong Silangan, Tayo na sa bukid, paggawa’y simulan, Pagka’t ang paggawa’y siyang sumusuhay Sa bayan, sa angkan, sa ating tahanan. Lupa’y maaring magmamatigas naman, At magwalang-awa ang sikat ng araw Kung dahil sa anak, asawa at Bayan, Ang lahat sa ating pagsinta’y gagaan. KORO (Mga babaing may Asawa) Magmasigla kayong yao sa gawain, Pagka’t ang baba’y nasa-bahay natin, At itinuturo sa batang mahalin Ang Bayan, ang dunong at gawang magaling Pagdatal ng gabi ng pagpapahinga, Kayo’y inaantay ng tuwa’t ligaya At kung magkataong saama ang manguna, Ang magpapatuloy ang gawa’y ang sinta.
  • 15. KORO (Mga Dalaga) Mabuhay! Mabuhay! Paggawa’y purihin Na siyang sa Baya’y nagbibigay- ningning! At dahil sa kanya’y taas ng paningin, Yamang siya’y dugo at buhay na angkin. At kung may binatang nais na lumigaw, Ang paggawa’y siyang ipaninindigan; Sapagka’t ang taong may sipag na taglay, Sa iaanak nya’y magbibigay-buhay. KORO (Mga Bata) Kami ay turuan ninyo ng gawain; At ang bukas ninyo’y aming tutuntunin Bukas, kung tumawag ang bayan sa amin, Ang inyong ginawa’y aming tatapusin. Kasabihan niyong mga matatanda: “Kung ano ang ama’y gayon din ang bata,” sapagka’t sa patay ang papuri’y wala. Maliban sa isang anak na dakila.
  • 16. A Poem that has no Title
  • 17. To 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.
  • 18. To Josephine Rizal dedicated this poem to Josephine Bracken, an Irish woman who went to Dapitan accompanying a man seeking Rizal's services as an ophthalmologist.
  • 19. Josephine, Josephine Who to these shores have come Looking for a nest, a home, Like a wandering swallow; If your fate is taking you To Japan, China or Shanghai Don't forget that on these shores A heart for you beats high.
  • 20. Education Gives Luster To Motherland Rizal loved his Motherland. Even at a very young age, he cultivated an intense affection towards his country and people. In this poem “Education Gives Luster to Motherland”, he extols the citizenry to strive towards education in order to give glory to the country.
  • 21. 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.
  • 22. 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 beneficent 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.
  • 23. 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 pleasure of virtue to young and old And she enlightens out Motherland dear As she offers endless glow and luster.
  • 24. To the Philippines Rizal wrote the original sonnet in Spanish
  • 25. 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!
  • 26. Memories of My town
  • 27. 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
  • 28. 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 happiness In the heart of nature rests there. Tender childhood, beautiful town, Rich fountain of happiness, 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!
  • 29. Kundiman Rizal wrote “Kundiman” in Tagalog in September 12,1891. A kundiman is actually a traditional Filipino love song used by a young man to serenade the woman of his love. The theme of Rizal’s “Kundiman” is his intense love for his Motherland. His words reflected his optimism that Philippines would be freed from injustice and bondage.
  • 30. 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.
  • 31. Kundiman in Tagalog Translation
  • 32. Tunay ngayong umid yaring dila't puso Sinta'y umiilag, tuwa'y lumalayo, Bayan palibhasa'y lupig at sumuko Sa kapabayaan ng nagturong puno. Datapuwa't muling sisikat ang araw, Pilit maliligtas ang inaping bayan, Magbabalik mandin at muling iiral Ang ngalang Tagalog sa sandaigdigan. Ibubuhos namin ang dugo't babaha Matubos nga lamang ang sa amang lupa Habang di ninilang panahong tadhana, Sinta'y tatahimik, iidlip ang nasa.
  • 33. Ang awit ni Maria Clara Ang tulang ito'y matatagpuan sa Noli Me Tangere ang inawit ni Maria Clara, kaya gayon ang pamagat. Ito’y punung- puno ng pag-ibig sa bayang tinubuan.
  • 34. Kay tamis ng oras sa sariling bayan, Kaibigan lahat ang abot ng araw, At sampu ng simoy sa parang ay buhay, Aliw ng panimdim pati kamatayan. Maalab na halik ang nagsaliw-saliw Sa labi ng inang mahal, pagkagising; Ang pita ng bisig as siya’y yapusin, Pati mga mata’y ngumgiti mandin. Kung dahil sa bayan, kay tamis mamatay, Doon sa kasuyo ang abot ng araw; Kamatayan pati ng simoy sa parang Sa walang pag-ibig, ni ina, ng Bayan.
  • 35. Song of Maria Clara in (English Translation)
  • 36. 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!
  • 37. To the Filipino Youth He submitted a poem for the poetry contest which had been organized for Filipinos by the Manila Lyceum of Art and Literature, and though he was but eighteen years of age (1879), he won the first prize, a silver pen. This poem, one of his most famous and most difficult to translate, was dedicated to the Filipino Youth.
  • 38. Hold high your faultless brow, Filipino youth, on this day grand! Shine forth resplendent now, In gallant glory stand, Handsome home of my motherland! Radiant Genius, arise! Make thy noblest dreams his own; Catch his mind in keen surprise; Swifter thn by tempest blown Sweep him up to glory's throne! Descend, O youth, -- the lovely light Of art and science in your train; -- On life's arena, smite And break the heavy chain Where long your pinioned poetry hath lain. Behold how, on this ardent zone Where shadows dwell, the Spaniard's hand, So wise and pious grown, Confers a garland grand Upon the youth of our fair Indian land!
  • 39. O you, who now aspiring rise On fancy's gifted wings From Mount Olympus to the skies, While Poetry more sweetly sings Than any sweetness nectar ever brings. Ye rivals of the nightingale Who carol some celestial lay Beneath the night moon pale, And by the tune you play Drive bitter mortal pain away. All ye who hold the power to free Those sorely grieved, by your charm'd word, And fix in their fond memory, That by your genius is stirred, The immortal thought that ye have heard. And ye who Phoebus' charms expose, That stole divine Apollo's heart; And borrowing from nature's clothes, With artist's magic art, On linen canvas portray every part.
  • 40. O hasten! See whose sacred flame Of genius will be laurel crowned; And hear what moral name, While trumpet peals resound, Around the whole wide world will be renowned! O blessed day and hour, Beloved Filipinas, for your land, Thanks to the mighty Power Which, with loving hand, This venture and this consolation planned.
  • 41. Sa Kabataang Pilipino Tagalog Translation
  • 42. Itaas ang iyong noong aliwalas ngayon, Kabataan ng aking pangarap! ang aking talino na tanging liwanag ay pagitawin mo, Pag-asa ng Bukas! Ikaw ay lumitaw, O Katalinuhan magitang na diwang puno sa isipan mga puso nami'y sa iyo'y naghihintay at dalhin mo roon sa kaitaasan. Bumaba kang taglay ang kagiliw-giliw na mga silahis ng agham at sining mga Kabataan, hayo na't lagutin ang gapos ng iyong diwa at damdamin. Masdan ang putong na lubhang makinang sa gitna ng dilim ay matitigan maalam na kamay, may dakilang alay sa nagdurusa mong bayang minamahal.
  • 43. Ikaw na may bagwis ng pakpak na nais kagyat na lumipad sa tuktok ng langit paghanapin mo ang malambing na tinig doon sa Olimpo'y pawang nagsisikap. Ikaw na ang himig ay lalong mairog Tulad ni Pilomel na sa luha'y gamot at mabisang lunas sa dusa't himuntok ng puso at diwang sakbibi ng lungkot Ikaw, na ang diwa'y makapangyarihan matigas na bato'y mabibigyang- buhay mapagbabago mo alaalang taglay sa iyo'y nagiging walang kamatayan. Ikaw, na may diwang inibig ni Apeles sa wika inamo ni Pebong kay rikit sa isang kaputol na lonang maliit ginuhit ang ganda at kulay ng langit.
  • 44. Humayo ka ngayon, papagningasin mo ang alab ng iyong isip at talino maganda mong ngala'y ikalat sa mundo at ipagsigawan ang dangal ng tao. Araw na dakila ng ligaya't galak magsaya ka ngayon, mutyang Pilipinas purihin ang bayang sa iyo'y lumingap at siyang nag-akay sa mabuting palad.
  • 45. To the Virgin Mary Jose Rizal was a Marian devotee and even carved a statue of the Virgin Mary when he young boy. “To the Virgin Mary” is a sonnet that was said to have been written in December 3, 1876 while Rizal was studying in Ateneo. -
  • 46. 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!
  • 47. Sa Mahal na Birhen Maria
  • 48. 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 lingap Sa 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!
  • 49. They Asked Me for Verses was written while he was a member of Circulo Hispano Filipino. Me Piden Versos (They Asked Me for Verses) reflected how sad it was for him to have the ability to steer emotions through his poems yet stifled and muted by the powerful and oppressive Spaniards.
  • 50. 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 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. - 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. 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!’
  • 51. 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. 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
  • 52. My Retreat describes in “My Retreat” his exile in Dapitan. From 1892 to 1896, he lived an unexciting but fruitful life. Even in his exile, Rizal proved that life can still be abundant and full of achievements. He lived as a merchant and a farmer and built three houses made from bamboo, wood and nipa. Interestingly, his houses were of varied geometrical shapes. “I shall tell you how we lived here. I have three houses-one square, another hexagonal, and the third octagonal.” This is part of his letter to Blumentritt in December 19, 1893 about his peaceful life in Dapitan and the following is his poem:
  • 53. 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.
  • 54. 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.
  • 55. 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.
  • 56. 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.
  • 57. 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.
  • 58. 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.
  • 59. Miss C.O. y R. Rizal dedicated this poem to Miss Consuelo Ortiga y Rey, daughter of the Mr. Pablo Ortiga y Rey who was the vice president of the Council of the Philippines in Madrid. Many Filipinos habitually visited his house while in Madrid. The poem was written in August 22,1883.
  • 60. 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!
  • 61. 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.
  • 62. To The Child Jesus “Child Jesus” was written in Spanish by Jose Rizal in 1875 at the age of 14. The poem is an octave real or a short poem with eight verses only which was actually according to the Spanish standard of writing poems.
  • 63. 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?
  • 64. Sa Sanggol na si Jesus
  • 65. O Diyos na Sanggol, paano ba kaya't Ang sinilangan Mo ay sabsabang aba? Diyata't di pa man ay pag-alipusta Ang dulot ng Palad sa Iyong pagbaba? Kaylungkot! O hari ng Sangkalangitan, Nagkatawang-tao't sa lupa'y tumahan, Hindi Mo ba ibig na Haring matanghal Kundi Pastol namin na kawan Mong mahal?Isinalin sa Tagalog dikilala
  • 66. Song of the Wanderer This poem talks about Jose Rizal, himself. Yet even as a wanderer, his brilliance and bravery are reflected in his works and heroism, his name is etched in history and in peoples’ hearts. You can share your comments about this sentimental poem.
  • 67. 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.
  • 68. 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 graves nothing more. Begone, wanderer! In your own country, a stranger now and alone! Let the others sing of loving, who are happy but 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.
  • 69. My First Inspiration The following poem in Spanish Mi Primera Inspiracion or “My First Inspiration” was believed to have been written by Dr. Jose Rizal when he was just nine years old. Other documents reported that this is the work of his nephew, Antonio Lopez-Rizal (Narcisa’s son) because of seeming likeness in handwriting of the two Rizals.
  • 70. 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!
  • 71. SOURCES: http://www.joserizal.com/ http://joserizal.info/Writings/Poetry/poet ry.lwp.htm Thank You so much 