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MemoriesofMyTown
When I recall the days
That saw my childhood of yore
Beside the verdant shore
Of a murmuring lagoon;
When...
forsakes.
As the sprout, growing from
the pompous vine,
Proudly offers us its
honeyed clusters
While the generous and
lovi...
While Poetry more sweetly sings
Than any sweetness nectar ever
brings.
Ye rivals of the nightingale
Who carol some celesti...
And tell of that day
when he collected you along the way
among the ruins of a feudal castle,
on the banks of the Neckar, o...
The sandy beach of Dapitan
and the rocks of its lofty mountain
are your throne. O sacred asylum
where I passed my childhoo...
If the sky is serene, meekly flows the spring,
strumming on its invisible zither
unceasingly;
but come the time of the rai...
bear.
I live with the remembrance of those that I
have loved
and hear their names still spoken, who haunt
my memory;
some ...
No more are you, like once, full of fire and
life,
offering a thousand crowns to immortality;
somewhat serious I find you;...
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Writings of rizal

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Writings of rizal

  1. 1. MemoriesofMyTown 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 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! THE INTIMATE ALLIANCE BETWEEN RELIGION AND GOOD EDUCATION As the climbing ivy over lefty elm Creeps tortuously, together the adornment Of the verdant plain, embellishing Each other and together growing, But should the kindly elm refuse its aid The ivy would impotent and friendless wither So is Education to Religion By spiritual alliance bound Through Religion, Education gains renown, and Woe to the impious mind that blindly spurning The sapient teachings of religion, this Unpolluted fountain-head
  2. 2. forsakes. As the sprout, growing from the pompous vine, Proudly offers us its honeyed clusters While the generous and loving garment Feeds its roots; so the fresh’ning waters Of celestial virtue give new life To Education true, shedding On it warmth and light; because of them The vine smells sweet and gives delicious fruit Without Religion, Human Education Is like unto a vessel struck by winds Which, sore beset, is of its helm deprived By the roaring blows and buffets of the dread Tempestuous Boreas, who fiercely wields His power until he proudly send her down Into the deep abysses of then angered sea. As the heaven’s dew the meadow feeds and strengthen So that blooming flowers all the earth Embroider in the days of spring; so also If Religion holy nourishes Education with its doctrine, she Shall walk in joy and generosity Toward the good, and everywhere bestrew The fragrant and luxuriant fruits of virtue TO THE FILIPINO YOUTH 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 than 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! O you, who now aspiring rise On fancy's gifted wings From Mount Olympus to the skies,
  3. 3. 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. 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 TO THE CHILD JESUS How, god-child hast thou come To earth in cave forlorn Does fortune now deride thee When Thou art scarcely born Ah,woe ! Celestial King Who mortal from dost keep Woulds’t rather than be sovereign Be sherperd of thy sheep To the Flowers of Heidelberg Go to my country, go, O foreign flowers, sown by the traveler along the road, and under that blue heaven that watches over my loved ones, recount the devotion the pilgrim nurses for his native sod! Go and say say that when dawn opened your chalices for the first time beside the icy Neckar, you saw him silent beside you, thinking of her constant vernal clime. Say that when dawn which steals your aroma was whispering playful love songs to your young sweet petals, he, too, murmured canticles of love in his native tongue; that in the morning when the sun first traces the topmost peak of Koenigssthul in gold and with a mild warmth raises to life again the valley, the glade, the forest, he hails that sun, still in its dawning, that in his country in full zenith blazes.
  4. 4. And tell of that day when he collected you along the way among the ruins of a feudal castle, on the banks of the Neckar, or in a forest nook. Recount the words he said as, with great care, between the pages of a worn-out book he pressed the flexible petals that he took. Carry, carry, O flowers, my love to my loved ones, peace to my country and its fecund loam, faith to its men and virtue to its women, health to the gracious beings that dwell within the sacred paternal home. When you reach that shore, deposit the kiss I gave you on the wings of the wind above that with the wind it may rove and I may kiss all that I worship, honor and love! To my Muse Invoked no longer is the Muse, The lyre is out of date; The poets it no longer use, And youth its inspiration now imbues With other form and state. If today our fancies aught Of verse would still require, Helicon’s hill remains unsought; And without heed we but inquire, Why the coffee is not brought. In the place of thought sincere That our hearts may feel, We must seize a pen of steel, And with verse and line severe Fling abroad a jest and jeer. Muse, that in the past inspired me, And with songs of love hast fired me; Go thou now to dull repose, For today in sordid prose I must earn the gold that hired me. Now must I ponder deep, Meditate, and struggle on; E’en sometimes I must weep; For he who love would keep Great pain has undergone. Fled are the days of ease, The days of Love’s delight; When flowers still would please And give to suffering souls surcease From pain and sorrow’s blight. One by one they have passed on, All I loved and moved among; Dead or married—from me gone, For all I place my heart upon By fate adverse are stung. Go thou, too, O Muse, depart, Other regions fairer find; For my land but offers art For the laurel, chains that bind, For a temple, prisons blind. But before thou leavest me, speak: Tell me with thy voice sublime, Thou couldst ever from me seek A song of sorrow for the weak, Defiance to the tyrant’s crime. Hymn to Talisay Hail, Talisay, firm and faithful, ever forward march elate! You, victorious, the elements —land, sea and air— shall dominate!
  5. 5. The sandy beach of Dapitan and the rocks of its lofty mountain are your throne. O sacred asylum where I passed my childhood days! In your valley covered with flowers and shaded by fruitful orchards, our minds received their formation, both body and soul, by your grace. We are children, children born late, but our spirits are fresh and healthy; strong men shall we be tomorrow that can guard a family right. We are children that nothing frightens, not the waves, nor the storm, nor the thunder; the arm ready, the young face tranquil, in a fix we shall know how to fight. We ransack the sand in our frolic; through the caves and the thickets we ramble; our houses are built upon rocks; our arms reach far and wide. No darkness, and no dark night, that we fear, no savage tempest; if the devil himself comes forward, we shall catch him, dead or alive! Talisayon, the people call us: a great soul in a little body; in Dapitan and all its region Talisay has no match! Our reservoir is unequalled; our precipice is a deep chasm; and when we go rowing, our bancas no banca in the world can catch! We study the problems of science and the history of the nation. We speak some three or four languages; faith and reason we span. Our hands can wield at the same time the knife, the pen and the spade, the picket, the rifle, the sword— companions of a brave man. Long live luxuriant Talisay! Our voices exalt you in chorus, clear star, dear treasure of childhood, a childhood you guide and please. In the struggles that await the grown man, subject to pain and sorrow, your memory shall be his amulet; and your name, in the tomb, his peace. My Retreat 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.
  6. 6. 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
  7. 7. 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.
  8. 8. 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.

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