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30.KUNDIMAN, 1891
32. SONG OF THE Begone, wanderer! In your own country,
WANDERER/TRAVELER(EL CANTO DEL a stranger now and alone!
VIAJERO, 1895) Let the others sing of loving,
who are happybut you, begone!
Dry leaf that flies at random
till it's seized by a wind from above: Begone, wanderer! Look not behind you
so lives on earth the wanderer, nor grieve as you leave again.
without north, without soul, without Begone, wanderer: stifle your sorrows!
country or love! the world laughs at another's pain.
Anxious, he seeks joy everywhere
and joy eludes him and flees, 33. TO JOSEPHINE, 1895
a vain shadow that mocks his yearning
and for which he sails the seas. Josephine, Josephine
Who to these shores have come
Impelled by a hand invisible, Looking for a nest, a home,
he shall wander from place to place; Like a wandering swallow;
memories shall keep him company If your fate is taking you
of loved ones, of happy days. To Japan, China or Shanghai,
Don't forget that on these shores
A tomb perhaps in the desert, A heart for you beats high.
a sweet refuge, he shall discover,
by his country and the world forgotten 34. HYMN TO TALISAY, October 1895
Rest quiet: the torment is over.
Hail, Talisay,
And they envy the hapless wanderer firm and faithful,
as across the earth he persists! ever forward
Ah, they know not of the emptiness march elate!
in his soul, where no love exists.
You, victorious,
The pilgrim shall return to his country, the elements
shall return perhaps to his shore; land, sea and air
and shall find only ice and ruin, shall dominate!
perished loves, and gravesnothing more.
The sandy beach of Dapitan
and the rocks of its lofty mountain
are your throne. O sacred asylum Our reservoir is unequalled;
where I passed my childhood days! our precipice is a deep chasm;
and when we go rowing, our bancas
In your valley covered with flowers no banca in the world can catch!
and shaded by fruitful orchards,
our minds received their formation, We study the problems of science
both body and soul, by your grace. and the history of the nation.
We speak some three or four languages;
We are children, children born late, faith and reason we span.
but our spirits are fresh and healthy;
strong men shall we be tomorrow Our hands can wield at the same time
that can guard a family right. the knife, the pen and the spade,
the picket, the rifle, the sword
We are children that nothing frightens, companions of a brave man.
not the waves, nor the storm, nor the
thunder; Long live luxuriant Talisay!
the arm ready, the young face tranquil, Our voices exalt you in chorus,
in a fix we shall know how to fight. clear star, dear treasure of childhood,
a childhood you guide and please.
We ransack the sand in our frolic;
through the caves and the thickets we In the struggles that await the grown man,
ramble; subject to pain and sorrow,
our houses are built upon rocks; your memory shall be his amulet;
our arms reach far and wide.
No darkness, and no dark night, 35. MY RETREAT (Mi Retiro, 1895)
that we fear, no savage tempest; (A Translation from the Spanish by Nick
if the devil himself comes forward, Joaquin)
we shall catch him, dead or alive!
Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate
Talisayon, the people call us: sand
a great soul in a little body; and at the foot of a mountain greener than
in Dapitan and all its region a leaf,
Talisay has no match!
I planted my humble hut beneath a pleasant
orchard, The barking of the dog, the twittering of the
seeking in the still serenity of the woods birds,
repose to my intellect and silence to my the hoarse voice of the kalaw are all that I
grief. hear;
there is no boastful man, no nuisance of a
Its roof is fragile nipa; its floor is brittle neighbor
bamboo; to impose himself on my mind or to disturb
its beams and posts are rough as rough- my passage;
hewn wood can be; only the forests and the sea do I have near.
of no worth, it is certain, is my rustic cabin;
but on the lap of the eternal mount it The sea, the sea is everything! Its sovereign
slumbers mass
and night and day is lulled by the crooning brings to me atoms of a myriad faraway
of the sea. lands;
its bright smile animates me in the limpid
The overflowing brook, that from the mornings;
shadowy jungle and when at the end of day my faith has
descends between huge bowlders, washes it proven futile,
with its spray, my heart echoes the sound of its sorrow on
donating a current of water through the sands.
makeshift bamboo pipes
that in the silent night is melody and music At night it is a mystery! Its diaphanous
and crystalline nectar in the noon heat of element
the day. is carpeted with thousands and thousands
of lights that climb;
If the sky is serene, meekly flows the spring, the wandering breeze is cool, the
strumming on its invisible zither firmament is brilliant,
unceasingly; the waves narrate with many a sigh to the
but come the time of the rains, and an mild wind
impetuous torrent histories that were lost in the dark night of
spills over rocks and chasms hoarse, time.
foaming and aboil
to hurl itself with a frenzied roaring toward ‘Tis said they tell of the first morning on the
the sea. earth,
of the first kiss with which the sun inflamed but calm is re-established with the
her breast, approach of dawning
when multitudes of beings materialized and forthwith an intrepid little fishing
from nothing vessel
to populate the abyss and the overhanging begins to navigate the weary waves anew.
summits
and all the places where that quickening So pass the days of my life in my obscure
kiss was pressed. retreat;
cast out of the world where once I dwelt:
But when the winds rage in the darkness of such is my rare
the night good fortune; and Providence be praised for
and the unquiet waves commence their my condition:
agony, a disregarded pebble that craves nothing
across the air move cries that terrify the but moss
spirit, to hide from all the treasure that in myself I
a chorus of voices praying, a lamentation bear.
that seems
to come from those who, long ago, drowned I live with the remembrance of those that I
in the sea. have loved
and hear their names still spoken, who
Then do the mountain ranges on high haunt my memory;
reverberate; some already are dead, others have long
the trees stir far and wide, by a fit of forgotten
trembling seized; but what does it matter? I live remembering
the cattle moan; the dark depths of the the past
forest resound; and no one can ever take the past away
their spirits say that they are on their way from me.
to the plain,
summoned by the dead to a mortuary feast. It is my faithful friend that never turns
against me,
The wild night hisses, hisses, confused and that cheers my spirit when my spirit’s a
terrifying; lonesome wraith,
one sees the sea afire with flames of green that in my sleepless nights keeps watch
and blue; with me and prays
with me, and shares with me my exile and On seeing the same moon, as silvery as
my cabin, before,
and, when all doubt, alone infuses me with I feel within me the ancient melancholy
faith. revive;
a thousand memories of love and vows
Faith do I have, and I believe the day will awaken:
shine a patio, an azotea, a beach, a leafy bower;
when the Idea shall defeat brute force as silences and sighs, and blushes of delight
well;
and after the struggle and the lingering A butterfly athirst for radiances and colors,
agony dreaming of other skies and of a larger
a voice more eloquent and happier than my strife,
own I left, scarcely a youth, my land and my
will then know how to utter victory’s affections,
canticle. and vagrant eveywhere, with no qualms,
with no terrors,
I see the heavens shining, as flawless and squandered in foreign lands the April of my
refulgent life.
as in the days that saw my first illusions
start; And afterwards, when I desired, a weary
I feel the same breeze kissing my autumnal swallow,
brow, to go back to the nest of those for whom I
the same that once enkindled my fervent care,
enthusiasm suddenly fiercely roared a violent hurricane
and turned the blood ebullient within my and I found my wings broken, my dwelling
youthful heart. place demolished,
faith now sold to others, and ruins
Across the fields and rivers of my native everywhere.
town
perhaps has travelled the breeze that now I Hurled upon a rock of the country I adore;
breathe by chance; the future ruined; no home, no health to
perhaps it will give back to me what once I bring me cheer;
gave it: you come to me anew, dreams of rose and
the sighs and kisses of a person idolized gold,
and the sweet secrets of a virginal romance. of my entire existence the solitary treasure,
convictions of a youth that was healthy and 36. MY LAST FAREWELL (Mi Ultimo Adios,
sincere. December 1896)
No more are you, like once, full of fire and Farewell, beloved Country, treasured region
life, of the sun,
offering a thousand crowns to immortality; Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our
somewhat serious I find you; and yet your vanquished Eden!
face beloved, To you I gladly surrender this melancholy
if now no longer as merry, if now no longer life;
as vivid, And were it brighter, fresher, gaudier,
now bear the superscription of fidelity. Even then I’d give it to you, to you alone
would then I give.
You offer me, O illusions, the cup of
consolation; In fields of battle, deliriously fighting,
you come to reawaken the years of youthful Others give you their lives, without doubt,
mirth; without regret;
hurricane, I thank you; winds of heaven, I Where there’s cypress, laurel or lily,
thank you On a plank or open field, in combat or
that in good hour suspended by uncertain cruel martyrdom,
flight If the home or country asks, it's all the
to bring me down to the bosom of my same--it matters not.
native earth.
I die when I see the sky unfurls its colors
Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate And at last after a cloak of darkness
sand announces the day;
and at the foot of a mountain greener than If you need scarlet to tint your dawn,
a leaf, Paint with my blood, pour it as the moment
I found in my land a refuge under a comes,
pleasant orchard, And may it be gilded by a reflection of the
and in its shadowy forests, serene heaven’s new-born light.
tranquility, My dreams, even as a child,
repose to my intellect and silence to my
grief. My dreams, when a young man in the
prime of life,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the Let the burning sun evaporate the rain,
eastern seas, And with the struggle behind, towards the
Dry those dark eyes, raise that forehead sky may they turn pure;
high, Let a friend mourn my early demise,
Without frown, without wrinkle, without And in the serene afternoon, when someone
stain of shame. prays for me,
O Country, pray that God will also grant
My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire, me rest!
Is for this soul that will soon depart to cry
out: Salud! Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died,
To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to For all who suffered torment unequaled,
give you flight, For grieving mothers who in bitterness cry,
To die to give you life, to rest under your For orphans and widows, for prisoners in
sky, torture,
And in your enchanted land forever sleep. And for yourself to see your redemption at
last.
If upon my grave one day you may behold,
Amidst the dense grass, a simple lowly And when the burial ground is shrouded in
flower, dark night,
Place it upon your lips, and my soul you’ll And there alone, only the departed remain
kiss, in vigil,
And on my brow may I feel, under the cold Disturb not their rest, nor their secrets,
tomb, And should you hear chords from a zither
The tenderness of your touch, the warmth or harp,
of your breath. 'Tis I, O land beloved, 'tis I, to you I sing !
Let the moon see me in soft and tranquil And when my grave, then by all forgotten,
light, has not a cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let the dawn burst forth its fleeting Let men plow and with a spade disperse it,
radiance, And before my ashes return to nothing,
Let the wind moan with its gentle murmur, May they be the dust that carpets your
And should a bird descend and rest on my fields.
cross,
Let it sing its canticle of peace. Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion.
Your air, your space, your valleys I will free will you gave to me
cross. and a soul that must find worth
I will be vibrant music to your ears, in goodness, like a compass needle set
Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and north.
song,
Ever echoing the essence of my faith. You willed my birth to be
of honorable parents, a house of honor;
Land that I love, sorrow of my sorrows, and a country you granted me:
Adored Filipinas, hear my last good-bye. rich, fair to all who won her,
There I leave you all, my parents, my though fortune and prudence may be
beloved. scarce upon her.
I go where there are no slaves, hangmen
nor oppressors,
Where faith does not kill, where the one
who reigns is God.
Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters,
fragments of my soul,
Childhood friends in the home now gone,
Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome
day;
Goodbye, sweet stranger, my friend, my joy;
Farewell, loved ones. To die is to rest.
UNDATED POEM
37. A FRAGMENT (A Poem that has no title)
To my Creator I sing,
to my All-Merciful Lord, the Omnipotent,
who hushed my suffering
and his sweet solace sent
to ease me while in tribulation I went.
You, with authority,
said: Live; and I myself to life came forth;