An English translation by Edwin D. Bael, March 10, 2012
Farewell, Fatherland adored, region beloved by the sun,
Pearl of the Orient Sea, our perfect place, lost and drifting!
Joyfully I go to give you this sad parched life without fun,
And were it brighter, fresher or had more flowers that stun,
Still I would give it to you, give it for your well-being.
In fields of battle, fighting with delirium and frenzy
Others give you their lives without doubt, without grief;
The location matters not, whether cypress, laurel or lily,
Gallows or open field, combat or martyr’s cruel agony,
It’s all the same if homeland and home ask for it lief.
I die when I see that colors lighten the sky
And finally herald the day after the cloak of night;
If you need scarlet grain, your dawn to dye,
Pour my blood, shed it in good hour to abye,
And gild it a reflection of your nascent light.
My dreams when scarcely a lad adolescent,
My dreams when a young man all filled with vigor,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the sea of the orient
The dark eyes dry, the smooth forehead held high unbent:
Without frown, without wrinkles, without stains of high color.
Dream of my life, my ardent, living, passion and rallying cry,
Health, shouts to you the soul that soon shall go and depart!
Health! O, how beautiful it is to fall to give you power to fly,
To die to give you vigor to live, beneath your heaven to die,
And in your enchanted land, the eternity to sleep never apart.
If one day over my sepulcher you should see sprout
Among the dense unpretentious grass, a humble flower,
Bring it close to your lips and kiss my soul devout,
And I feel in my forehead under the cold tomb layout
Soft blow of your tenderness, warmth of your breath zephyr.
Let the moon see me with light tranquil and soft;
Allow that the dawn send forth its fleeting resplendence,
Let the wind sigh with its murmur so gentle-mellow oft,
And if above my cross a bird descends and perches aloft
Allow that the bird intone its canticle of peace and silence.
Allow that the burning sun evaporate the rain
And the heavens turn pure with my clamor following;
Allow that for my early end a friend may shed tears of pain,
And, in serene evenings when someone prays for me certain,
Pray also, O Fatherland: that I may in God be resting.
Pray for all those who died without contentment,
For those who suffered pain and anguish without equal,
For our poor mothers who bemoan their embitterment,
For orphans and widows, for prisoners in agony and torment,
And pray for yourself that you see your redemption made final.
And when at night darkness wraps around the cemetery,
And only the dead alone remain there, the vigil keeping,
Don’t disturb their rest, don’t disturb the mystery;
Perhaps you hear chords of zither or psaltery,
It is I, beloved Fatherland, I who to you, songs do sing.
And when already my tomb is forgotten by all,
Having neither cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let man plow it, by hoe disperse it and let fall,
And my ashes, before they turn to nothing at all,
Will go to form the dust of your carpet apace.
Then it matters not you put me in oblivion and forgetting,
Your atmosphere, your space, your valleys will I cross,
Vibrant and clean note shall I be to your sense of hearing,
Fragrance, lights, colors, soft murmurs, singing, sighing…
Constantly repeating my faith essence, sprinkling it across.
My Fatherland idolized, pain-affliction of my pain-afflictions,
Beloved Philippines: hear the last goodbye and go with God.
There, I leave you all: my parents-ancestors, my loves-affections.
I go where there are no slaves, slayers nor tyrants in all locations;
Where faith does not kill; where the one who reigns is God.
Farewell, parents and siblings, pieces of this soul of mine,
Friends of tender years in the hearth now gone and left behind,
Give thanks that I rest from the day fatiguing and serpentine;
Farewell, sweet foreigner, my friend, my joy-of-life divine,
Farewell, beloved beings. To die is to rest, relax, unwind…
- o o 0 0 0 o o –
“On the afternoon of Dec. 29, 1896, a day before his execution, Dr. Jose Rizal was visited by his mother, Teodora Alonzo, sisters Lucia, Josefa, Trinidad, Maria and Narcisa, and two nephews. When they took their leave, Rizal told Trinidad in English that there was something in the small alcohol stove (cocinilla), not alcohol lamp (lamparilla). The stove was given to Narcisa by the guard when the party was about to board their carriage in the courtyard. At home, the Rizal ladies recovered from the stove a folded paper. On it was written an unsigned, untitled and undated poem of 14 five-line stanzas. The Rizals reproduced copies of the poem and sent them to Rizal's friends in the country and abroad. In 1897, Mariano Ponce in Hong Kong had the poem printed with the title ‘Mi Ultimo Pensamiento.’ Fr. Mariano Dacanay, who received a copy of the poem while a prisoner in Bilibid (jail), published it in the first issue of La Independencia on Sept. 25, 1898 with the title ‘Ultimo Adios.’”
(The Inquirer, December 30, 2002)
Copy of his original text in Spanish is as follows:
Adios, Patria adorada, region del sol querida,
Perla del Mar de Oriente, nuestro perdido Eden!
A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
Y fuera más brillante más fresca, más florida,
Tambien por tí 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 ó lirio,
Cadalso ó campo abierto, combate ó 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 trás 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 á 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 dia
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 á 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 cantico de paz.
Deja que el sol ardiendo las lluvias evapore
Y al cielo tornen puras con mi clamor en pos,
Deja que un sér amigo mi fin temprano llore
Y en las serenas tardes cuando por mi alguien ore
Ora tambien, Oh Patria, por mi descanso á 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 tí que veas tu redencion 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 acordes oigas de citara ó salterio,
Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto á 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 á la nada,
El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan á formar.
Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido,
Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré,
Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oido,
Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido
Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fé.
Mi Patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,
Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adios.
Ahi te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.
Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores,
Donde la fé no mata, donde el que reyna es Dios.
Adios, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,
Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,
Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;
Adios, dulce extrangera, mi amiga, mi alegria,
Adios, queridos séres. Morir es descansar.
Farewell, Fatherland adored, region beloved by the sun,
Pearl of the Orient Sea, our perfect place, lost and drifting!
Joyfully I go to give you this sad parched life without fun,
And were it brighter, fresher or had more flowers that stun,
Still I would give it to you, give it for your well-being.
In fields of battle, fighting with delirium and frenzy
Others give you their lives without doubt, without grief;
The location matters not, whether cypress, laurel or lily,
Gallows or open field, combat or martyr’s cruel agony,
It’s all the same if homeland and home ask for it lief.
I die when I see that colors lighten the sky
And finally herald the day after the cloak of night;
If you need scarlet grain, your dawn to dye,
Pour my blood, shed it in good hour to abye,
And gild it a reflection of your nascent light.
My dreams when scarcely a lad adolescent,
My dreams when a young man all filled with vigor,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the sea of the orient
The dark eyes dry, the smooth forehead held high unbent:
Without frown, without wrinkles, without stains of high color.
Dream of my life, my ardent, living, passion and rallying cry,
Health, shouts to you the soul that soon shall go and depart!
Health! O, how beautiful it is to fall to give you power to fly,
To die to give you vigor to live, beneath your heaven to die,
And in your enchanted land, the eternity to sleep never apart.
If one day over my sepulcher you should see sprout
Among the dense unpretentious grass, a humble flower,
Bring it close to your lips and kiss my soul devout,
And I feel in my forehead under the cold tomb layout
Soft blow of your tenderness, warmth of your breath zephyr.
Let the moon see me with light tranquil and soft;
Allow that the dawn send forth its fleeting resplendence,
Let the wind sigh with its murmur so gentle-mellow oft,
And if above my cross a bird descends and perches aloft
Allow that the bird intone its canticle of peace and silence.
Allow that the burning sun evaporate the rain
And the heavens turn pure with my clamor following;
Allow that for my early end a friend may shed tears of pain,
And, in serene evenings when someone prays for me certain,
Pray also, O Fatherland: that I may in God be resting.
Pray for all those who died without contentment,
For those who suffered pain and anguish without equal,
For our poor mothers who bemoan their embitterment,
For orphans and widows, for prisoners in agony and torment,
And pray for yourself that you see your redemption made final.
And when at night darkness wraps around the cemetery,
And only the dead alone remain there, the vigil keeping,
Don’t disturb their rest, don’t disturb the mystery;
Perhaps you hear chords of zither or psaltery,
It is I, beloved Fatherland, I who to you, songs do sing.
And when already my tomb is forgotten by all,
Having neither cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let man plow it, by hoe disperse it and let fall,
And my ashes, before they turn to nothing at all,
Will go to form the dust of your carpet apace.
Then it matters not you put me in oblivion and forgetting,
Your atmosphere, your space, your valleys will I cross,
Vibrant and clean note shall I be to your sense of hearing,
Fragrance, lights, colors, soft murmurs, singing, sighing…
Constantly repeating my faith essence, sprinkling it across.
My Fatherland idolized, pain-affliction of my pain-afflictions,
Beloved Philippines: hear the last goodbye and go with God.
There, I leave you all: my parents-ancestors, my loves-affections.
I go where there are no slaves, slayers nor tyrants in all locations;
Where faith does not kill; where the one who reigns is God.
Farewell, parents and siblings, pieces of this soul of mine,
Friends of tender years in the hearth now gone and left behind,
Give thanks that I rest from the day fatiguing and serpentine;
Farewell, sweet foreigner, my friend, my joy-of-life divine,
Farewell, beloved beings. To die is to rest, relax, unwind…
- o o 0 0 0 o o –
“On the afternoon of Dec. 29, 1896, a day before his execution, Dr. Jose Rizal was visited by his mother, Teodora Alonzo, sisters Lucia, Josefa, Trinidad, Maria and Narcisa, and two nephews. When they took their leave, Rizal told Trinidad in English that there was something in the small alcohol stove (cocinilla), not alcohol lamp (lamparilla). The stove was given to Narcisa by the guard when the party was about to board their carriage in the courtyard. At home, the Rizal ladies recovered from the stove a folded paper. On it was written an unsigned, untitled and undated poem of 14 five-line stanzas. The Rizals reproduced copies of the poem and sent them to Rizal's friends in the country and abroad. In 1897, Mariano Ponce in Hong Kong had the poem printed with the title ‘Mi Ultimo Pensamiento.’ Fr. Mariano Dacanay, who received a copy of the poem while a prisoner in Bilibid (jail), published it in the first issue of La Independencia on Sept. 25, 1898 with the title ‘Ultimo Adios.’”
(The Inquirer, December 30, 2002)
Copy of his original text in Spanish is as follows:
Adios, Patria adorada, region del sol querida,
Perla del Mar de Oriente, nuestro perdido Eden!
A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
Y fuera más brillante más fresca, más florida,
Tambien por tí 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 ó lirio,
Cadalso ó campo abierto, combate ó 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 trás 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 á 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 dia
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 á 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 cantico de paz.
Deja que el sol ardiendo las lluvias evapore
Y al cielo tornen puras con mi clamor en pos,
Deja que un sér amigo mi fin temprano llore
Y en las serenas tardes cuando por mi alguien ore
Ora tambien, Oh Patria, por mi descanso á 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 tí que veas tu redencion 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 acordes oigas de citara ó salterio,
Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto á 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 á la nada,
El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan á formar.
Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido,
Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré,
Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oido,
Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido
Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fé.
Mi Patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,
Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adios.
Ahi te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.
Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores,
Donde la fé no mata, donde el que reyna es Dios.
Adios, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,
Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,
Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;
Adios, dulce extrangera, mi amiga, mi alegria,
Adios, queridos séres. Morir es descansar.
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