Translated by Nick Joaquin
TO THE CHILD JESUS
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
You wish not to be president
but the shepherd of your flock?
KUNDIMAN
Now mute indeed are tongue and heart:
love shies away, joy stands apart.
Neglected by its leaders and defeated,
the country was subdued and it submitted.
But O the sun will shine again!
Itself the land shall disenchain;
and once more round the world with growing praise
shall sound the name of the Tagalog race.
We shall pour out our blood in a great flood
to liberate the parent sod;
but still that day arrives for which we weep,
love shall be mute, desire shall sleep.
TO THE VIRGIN MARY
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, enthrowned 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.
SALVE, FILIPINAS!
Warm and beautiful like an houri of yore,
as gracious and as pure as the break of dawn
when darkling 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 flowery 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, corwn her brow immaculate,
O artists, and exalt the Philippines!
WATER AND FIRE
Water are we, you say, and yourselves fire;
so let us be what we are and co-exist without ire,
and may no conflagration ever find us at war.
But, rather, fused together by cunning science
within the cauldrons of the arden breast.
without rage, without defiance, do we form steam, fifth element indeed:
progress, life, enlightenment, and speed!
THE SONG OF MARIA CLARA
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!
Written by Jose Rizal, translated by Nick Joaquin. June 19, 1995. Philippines Graphic.
