| Mi Ultimo Adios |
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BACKGROUND Although Rizal's political proposals for more autonomy were non-violent, he was crossing dangerous domain held by despots who had lost their sense of mission, whose religiosity served more as a shield to defend the opulent lifestyles of the majority and the perverse and corrupted nature of a few; a noted English traveler of the nineteenth century, Sir John Bowring, had reported about this blatant display of wealth and even saw with his own eyes friars with syphilitic sores moving about in public. Tragically, all earnest pleas for reforms during the Spanish era led to stern measures and reprisals. As surely as may be the reaction of despotic rulers, Rizal represented the one identifiable source of disturbance. Spanish authorities in league with the friars had him arrested, tried summarily, and executed. At Fort Santiago , on the eve of his execution at the age of 35, he wrote the poem, expressing his love for his native land. He is said to have married Josephine Bracken at 5:30 that morning before a priest with guards as witnesses and retracted his writings against the Catholic Church. This became the Spanish Roman Catholic Church version and its position over the last century, but disputed by convincing circumstantial evidence ever since. Rizal himself was aware of this possibility, perpetrated by Church leaders as in the case of Voltaire. In the Philippines, it was common knowledge among the European residents that the friars published announcements of retractions that were allegedly made prior to executions, which during that period were rampant, the greensward on the Luneta being matted with dried blood. Some, like a pharmacist, Friedrich Stahl, even regarded these retractions as "ecclesiastical fraud." His 'Adios,' whose importance he emphasized to his sisters during his last moments, was meant to safeguard against such a possibility, and made sure no friar gainsaid the truth. Therein, for all posterity to see was his final comment on the Catholic Church of his day, "I go...where faith does not kill," and that it was the friars, most specially, who demanded his destruction. Hidden in a tiny alcove of an alcohol burner, and pried out with pins, the two small pieces of paper bearing his last testament were carefully hand copied and dispersed among the ranks of the Philippine Revolutionaries in Cavite, and inspired their nationalistic zeal even more with its selfless patriotism: "...to die to give you life, to die underneath your skies, and in your enchanted land to sleep forevermore." TITLE The poem itself has no title. Mariano Ponce , Rizal's friend and fellow reformist, titled it ''Mi Último Pensamiento'' in the copies he distributed, but this did not catch on. The matter of who exactly gave the poem its present title remains a bone of contention. POLITICAL IMPACT After the transfer of possession to the United States as a result of the Spanish-American War , the Philippines was perceived as a community of "barbarians" incapable of Self-government . Lobbying for management of Philippine affairs, U.S. Representative Henry Cooper recited the poem before the U.S. House Of Representatives . Realizing the nobility of the author, his fellow congressmen enacted the Philippine Bill Of 1902 enabling self-government. TRANSLATIONS There are at least 35 English translations known and published (in print) of this poem as of December 2005. The most popular is that of American Charles Derbyshire (dated 1911) and is enscribed on bronze. Also on bronze at the Rizal Park in Manila but less popular is the translation by Filipino National Artist and much-admired novelist and journalist Nick Joaquin (1944). The latest translation is in Czech made by a Czech diplomat, and adressed at the session of the senate. It could be the most translated patriotic swan song in the world. Aside from those English and 46 Filipino dialects, this poem has been translated into at least 37 foreign languages: Bahasa Indonesia, Bengali, Bulgarian, Burmese, Chinese, Danish, Dutch, Fijian, French, German, Greek, Hawaiian, Hebrew, Hindi, Hungarian, Igbo (Nigeria), Italian, Japanese, Javanese, Korean, Latin, Maori, Norwegian, Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, Sanskrit, Sinhalese (Sri Lanka), Somali, Tahitian, Thai, Tongan, Turkish, Urdu (Pakistan), Vietnamese, Wolof (Senegal), Yoruba (Nigeria). EXCERPT First & last stanzas (translation by Frank A Hilario, January 2006) :Adios, beloved Patria, EarthLove of the Sun, / :Pearl of the Sea Orient, Eden now in ruins bad! / :Glad am I to give my life shrunk and forsaken; / :And were it more brilliant, more fresh, more floral then, / :Would for you give I still, still I give for your good. :Adios, parents and kindred, fragments of my soul, / :Friends from my childhood then, all in that home lost; / :Give thanks I lay me down from the weary day’s toil; / :Adios, sweet stranger, my boon companion, my joy; / :Adios, loved ones all. To die is to repose THE POEM :¡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 :¡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 acordes 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, :Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día; :Adiós, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría, :Adiós, queridos seres, morir es descansar. ENGLISH TRANSLATION :My Last Farewell :''Farewell, beloved Country, treasured region of the sun, :''Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our lost Eden! :''To you eagerly I surrender this sad and gloomy life; :''And were it brighter, fresher, more florid, :''Even then I’d give it to you, for your sake alone. :''In fields of battle, deliriously fighting, :''Others give you their lives, without doubt, without regret; :''The place matters not: where there’s cypress, laurel or lily, :''On a plank or open field, in combat or cruel martyrdom, Italic text :''I die when I see the sky has unfurled its colors :''And at last after a cloak of darkness announces the day; :''If you need scarlet to tint your dawn, :''Shed my blood, pour it as the moment comes, :''And may it be gilded by a reflection of the heaven’s newly-born light. :''My dreams, when scarcely an adolescent, :''My dreams, when a young man already full of life, :''Were to see you one day, jewel of the sea of the Orient, :''Dry those eyes of black, that forehead high, :''Without frown, without wrinkles, without stains of shame. :''My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire, :''This soul that will soon depart cries out: Salud! :''To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to give you flight, :''To die to give you life, to die under your sky, :''And in your enchanted land eternally sleep. :''If upon my grave one day you see appear, :''Amidst the dense grass, a simple humble flower, :''Place it near your lips and my soul you’ll kiss, :''And on my brow may I feel, under the cold tomb, :''The gentle blow of your tenderness, the warmth of your breath. :''Let the moon see me in a soft and tranquil light, :''Let the dawn send its fleeting radiance, :''Let the wind moan with its low murmur, :''And should a bird descend and rest on my cross, :''Let it sing its canticle of peace. :''Let the burning sun evaporate the rains, :''And with my clamor behind, towards the sky may they turn pure; :''Let a friend mourn my early demise, :''And in the serene afternoons, when someone prays for me, :''O Country, pray to God also for my rest! :''Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died, :''For all who suffered torments unequaled, :''For our poor mothers who in their grief and bitterness cry, :''For orphans and widows, for prisoners in torture, :''And for yourself pray that your final redemption you’ll see. :''And when the cemetery is enveloped in dark night, :''And there, alone, only those who have gone remain in vigil, :''Disturb not their rest, nor the mystery, :''And should you hear chords from a zither or psaltery, :''It is I, beloved Country, singing to you. :''And when my grave, then by all forgotten, :''has not a cross nor stone to mark its place, :''Let men plow and with a spade scatter it, :''And before my ashes return to nothing, :''May they be the dust that carpets your fields. :''Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion. :''Your atmosphere, your space and valleys I’ll cross. :''I will be a vibrant and clear note to your ears, :''Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and song, :''Constantly repeating the essence of my faith. :''My idolized country, sorrow of my sorrows, :''Beloved Filipinas, hear my last good-bye. :''There I leave you all, my parents, my loves. :''I’ll go where there are no slaves, hangmen nor oppressors, :''Where faith doesn’t kill, where the one who reigns is God. :''Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters, fragments of my soul, :''Childhood friends in the home now lost, :''Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome day; :''Goodbye, sweet foreigner, my friend, my joy; :''Farewell, loved ones, to die is to rest. 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