Farewell, my
adored Land, region of the sun caressed,
Pearl of the
Orient Sea, our Eden lost,
With gladness I
give you my Life, sad and repressed;
And were it more
brilliant, more fresh and at its best,
I would still
give it to you for your welfare at most.
These
are the words of one about to die for his country. He expresses no regret but
only gladness, knowing that in giving his life, he is giving his country the
greatest gift any citizen could offer.
On the fields of
battle, in the fury of fight,
Others give you
their lives without pain or hesitancy,
The place does
not matter: cypress laurel, lily white,
Scaffold, open
field, conflict or martyrdom's site,
It is the same
if asked by home and Country.
Here
Rizal says that it does not matter where one dies, but why one dies and to what
purpose. Whether it’s “scaffold, open field, conflict or martyrdom’s site,” all
death hold the same honor if given for home and Country.
I die as I see
tints on the sky b'gin to show
And at last
announce the day, after a gloomy night;
If you need a
hue to dye your matutinal glow,
Pour my blood
and at the right moment spread it so,
And gild it with
a reflection of your nascent light!
Rizal’s
execution was set at sunrise, thus the meaning of the first and second lines.
He employs the visual senses in his poetic use of color, and then in the third
and fourth lines, adds the bright red tint of his blood to the scene, and gilds
it with golden sunlight. The use of these devices ignites passion in the
reader, as it is felt – a hundred times more so – in the writer, even without
explicit use of words signifying feeling.
My dreams, when
scarcely a lad adolescent,
My dreams when
already a youth, full of vigor to attain,
Were to see you,
gem of the sea of the Orient,
Your dark eyes
dry, smooth brow held to a high plane
Without frown,
without wrinkles and of shame without stain.
Since
his childhood, even as other children dreamed of childish things, Rizal dreamed
of seeing his country free, esteemed, and with head held high.
My life's fancy,
my ardent, passionate desire,
Hail! Cries out
the soul to you, that will soon part from thee;
Hail! How sweet
'tis to fall that fullness you may acquire;
To die to give
you life, 'neath your skies to expire,
And in your
mystic land to sleep through eternity!
Here,
he showers her with praise. He is his life’s fancy, his ardent and passionate
desire. He shouts “Hail!” as many would to their God. He says in the third line
that it is sweet to fall so that his country may acquire fullness, and then
continues on in the succeeding lines, “to die to give you life.” But his joy
does not end in the act of dying, but continues beyond the grave, where he
shall sleep in his country’s mystic land through eternity. As one dies for God,
Rizal dies for country. And as one looks forward to heaven, Rizal’s heaven – in
these lines, at least – lies in being buried in the land of his ancestors.
If over my tomb
some day, you would see blow,
A simple humble
flow'r amidst thick grasses,
Bring it up to
your lips and kiss my soul so,
And under the
cold tomb, I may feel on my brow,
Warmth of your
breath, a whiff of your tenderness.
In
this stanza, Rizal likens his soul to that of “a simple humble flower amidst
thick grasses.” The use of this comparison says a lot about how Rizal sees
himself – timid, simple, humble, surrounded by the unrelenting forces of
society. He imagines that after his death, he will live on in the bosom of his
motherland, and never cease to enjoy her love, which he begs her to express
with a kiss.
Let the moon
with soft, gentle light me descry,
Let the dawn
send forth its fleeting, brilliant light,
In murmurs grave
allow the wind to sigh,
And should a
bird descend on my cross and alight,
Let the bird
intone a song of peace o'er my site.
Rizal’s
love for nature is again depicted in these next four lines. It is interesting
that he enumerates the moon, the dawn, the wind, and a bird to pay homage to
his grave, yet does not mention close friends or specific people. Perhaps it is
a simple image of his reunion with nature that he wants to bring to mind;
perhaps it is also an expression of the loneliness and isolation that he has
felt and continues to feel in his fight for freedom.
Let the burning
sun the raindrops vaporize
And with my
clamor behind return pure to the sky;
Let a friend
shed tears over my early demise;
And on quiet
afternoons when one prays for me on high,
Pray too, oh, my
Motherland, that in God may rest I.
The
mention here, of a friend, is the closest he gets to company. And the mention
of God in the fourth line is the closest he gets to praying for a spiritual
heaven. That Rizal beseeches his country to pray that his soul may rest in God
is in line with the Roman Catholic belief that all men are sinners and that
salvation is to be earned and cannot be determined before the grave.
Pray thee for
all the hapless who have died,
For all those
who unequalled torments have undergone;
For our poor
mothers who in bitterness have cried;
For orphans,
widows and captives to tortures were shied,
And pray too
that you may see your own redemption.
In
these four lines he gives his motherland a list of the things he wishes her to
pray for. He remembers all of the martyrs who have suffered the same fate as he
will, who have died for their country; the mothers, wives, and children they
have left behind who suffer no less for being abandoned. He also, in a hopeful
closing note, asks her to pray for herself.
And when the
dark night wraps the cemet'ry
And only the
dead to vigil there are left alone,
Don't disturb
their repose, don't disturb the mystery:
If you hear the
sounds of cittern or psaltery,
It is I, dear
Country, who, a song t'you intone.
Clearly
Rizal has not imagined that a monument would eventually be built over his grave
and has pictured his final resting place as a humble cemetery where he shall,
even after death, sing a song of devotion for his motherland.
And when my
grave by all is no more remembered,
With neither
cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let it be plowed
by man, with spade let it be scattered
And my ashes ere
to nothingness are restored,
Let them turn to
dust to cover your earthly space.
In
this next stanza, Rizal wishes to then be “plowed by man” when his grave is no
longer remembered, and be scattered as he returns to be part of the dust that
covers the land he had died for. What actually happens in real life, though, is
an uncanny parallel. On December 30, 1896, on the day of his execution, Rizal’s
remains were buried in an unmarked grave in the Paco Cemetery. Years later,
however, his remains were exhumed and on December 30, 1912, they were brought
to their final resting place in the base of the monument at Luneta.
Then it doesn't
matter that you should forget me:
Your atmosphere,
your skies, your vales I'll sweep;
Vibrant and
clear note to your ears I shall be:
Aroma, light,
hues, murmur, song, moanings deep,
Constantly
repeating the essence of the faith I keep.
The
first line in this stanza begins following the assumption that our hero’s ashes
have now been spread over the land. Rizal envisions that once he has returned
to her in this manner, it will no longer matter if the country forgets him
because he will be with her, everywhere, as dust in the atmosphere, blowing in
the skies, in the wind, and still singing songs and murmuring words of devotion.
My idolized
Country, for whom I most gravely pine,
Dear
Philippines, to my last goodbye, oh, hearken
There I leave
all: my parents, loves of mine,
I'll go where
there are no slaves, tyrants or hangmen
Where faith does
not kill and where God alone does reign.
Here
we come to a more submissive yet hopeful tone. Rizal bids farewell to his one great
love – his country – and yet looks forward to being with God, where there are
no slaves, tyrants or hangmen.
Farewell,
parents, brothers, beloved by me,
Friends of my
childhood, in the home distressed;
Give thanks that
now I rest from the wearisome day;
Farewell, sweet
stranger, my friend, who brightened my way;
Farewell, to all
I love. To die is to rest.
To
close, Rizal now finally mentions specific people: parents, brothers, friends
of his childhood. In other translations, the fourth line reads, “Adios
sweet-tender foreigner—my friend, my happiness,” which historians have
interpreted to allude to Josephine Bracken, the daughter of an Anglo-Saxon
father and a Chinese mother, whom many believe – although it is frequently
challenged – he secretly married an hour before his death.