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Mi último adiós

Adiós, Patria adorada, región del sol querida,

Perla del mar de oriente, nuestro perdido Edén!

A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,

Y fuera más brillante, más fresca, más florida,

También por ti la diera, la diera por tu bien.

En campos de batalla, luchando con delirio,

Otros te dan sus vidas sin dudas, sin pesar;

El sitio nada importa, ciprés, laurel o lirio,

Cadalso o campo abierto, combate o cruel martirio,

Lo mismo es si lo piden la patria y el hogar.

Yo muero cuando veo que el cielo se colora

Y al fin anuncia el día tras lóbrego capuz;

si grana necesitas para teñir tu aurora,

Vierte la sangre mía, derrámala en buen hora

Y dórela un reflejo de su naciente luz.

Mis sueños cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,

Mis sueños cuando joven ya lleno de vigor,

Fueron el verte un día, joya del mar de oriente,

Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,

Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo,

¡Salud te grita el alma que pronto va a partir!

¡Salud! Ah, que es hermoso caer por darte vuelo,

Morir por darte vida, morir bajo tu cielo,

Y en tu encantada tierra la eternidad dormir.

Si sobre mi sepulcro vieres brotar un día

Entre la espesa yerba sencilla, humilde flor,

Acércala a tus labios y besa al alma mía,

Y sienta yo en mi frente bajo la tumba fría,

De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja a la luna verme con luz tranquila y suave,

Deja que el alba envíe su resplandor fugaz,

Deja gemir al viento con su murmullo grave,

Y si desciende y posa sobre mi cruz un ave,

Deja que el ave entone su cántico de paz.

Deja que el sol, ardiendo, las lluvias evapore

Y al cielo tornen puras, con mi clamor en pos;

Deja que un ser amigo mi fin temprano llore

Y en las serenas tardes cuando por mí alguien ore,

¡Ora también, oh Patria, por mi descanso a Dios!

Ora por todos cuantos murieron sin ventura,

Por cuantos padecieron tormentos sin igual,

Por nuestras pobres madres que gimen su amargura;

Por huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura

Y ora por ti que veas tu redención final.

Y cuando en noche oscura se envuelva el cementerio

Y solos sólo muertos queden velando allí,

No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio,

Tal vez accordes oigas de cítara o salterio,

Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a ti.

Y cuando ya mi tumba de todos olvidada

No tenga cruz ni piedra que marquen su lugar,

Deja que la are el hombre, la esparza con la azada,

Y mis cenizas, antes que vuelvan a la nada,

El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan a formar.

Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido.

Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré.

Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oído,

Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido,

Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fe.

Mi patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,

Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adiós.

Ahí te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.

Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores,

Donde la fe no mata, donde el que reina es Dios.

Adiós, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,

Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,

Dar gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;

Adiós, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría,

Adiós, queridos seres, morir es descansar.

My Last Farewell

Farewell, dear Fatherland, clime of the sun caress'd

Pearl 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 it thee, nor count the cost.

On the field of battle, 'mid the frenzy of fight,

Others have given their lives, without doubt or heed;

The place matters not-cypress or laurel or lily white,

Scaffold or open plain, combat or martyrdom's plight,

T is ever the same, to serve our home and country's need.

I die just when I see the dawn break,

Through the gloom of night, to herald the day;

And if color is lacking my blood thou shalt take,

Pour'd out at need for thy dear sake

To dye with its crimson the waking 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 eye.

Dream of my life, my living and burning desire,

All hail ! cries the soul that is now to take flight;

All hail ! And sweet it is for thee to expire ;

To die for thy sake, that thou mayst aspire;

And sleep in thy bosom eternity's long night.

If over my grave some day thou seest grow,

In the grassy sod, a humble flower,

Draw it to thy lips and kiss my soul so,

While I may feel on my brow in the cold tomb below

The touch 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 with sad lament over me keen ;

And if on my cross a bird should be seen,

Let it trill there its hymn of peace to my ashes.

Let the sun draw the 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 prayer be lifted on high

From thee, 0 my country, that in God I may rest.

Pray for all those that hapless have died,

For all who have suffered the unmeasur'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 the mystery profound

And perchance thou mayst hear a sad hymn resound

'T is I, O my country, raising a song unto thee.

And even my grave is remembered no more

Unmark'd by never a cross nor a stone

Let the plow sweep through it, the spade turn it o'er

That my ashes may carpet earthly floor,

Before into nothingness at last they are blown.

Then will oblivion bring to me no care

As over thy vales and plains I sweep;

Throbbing and cleansed in thy space and air

With color and light, with song and lament I fare,

Ever repeating the faith that I keep.

My Fatherland ador'd, that sadness to my sorrow lends

Beloved Filipinas, hear now my last good-by!

I give thee all: parents and kindred and friends

For I go where no slave before the oppressor bends,

Where faith can never kill, and God reigns e'er on high!

Farewell to you all, from my soul torn away,

Friends of my childhood in the home dispossessed !

Give thanks that I rest from the wearisome day !

Farewell to thee, too, sweet friend that lightened my way;

Beloved creatures all, farewell! In death there is rest !

Translated by Charles Derbyshire

To The Philippines

Warm and beautiful like a houri of yore,

as gracious and as pure as the break of dawn

when darling clouds take on a sapphire tone,

sleeps a goddess on the Indian shore.

The small waves of the sonorous sea assail

her feet with ardent, amorous kisses, while

the intellectual West adores her smile;

and the old hoary Pole, her flower veil.

My Muse, most enthusiastic and elate,

sings to her among naiads and undines;

I offer her my fortune and my fate.

With myrtle, purple roses, and flowering greens

and lilies, crown her brow immaculate,

O artists, and exalt the Philippines!

A Poem that has no title

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.

To Josephine

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.


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.