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Jose P. Rizal

Rizal, Jose P. ͞To the Flowers of Heidelberg.͟ Translated by Encarnacion Alzona. In 2

. Manila: National Historical Institute, 2002, Pp. 130-131

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: In this poem, Jose Rizal effectively employs natural imagery to express his longing for the Philippines. He also wishes peace for his country
and countrymen, and subsequently compares a person far from his homeland to a flower losing its fragrance.

       

Rizal, contemplating the flowers that deck the university

town of Heidelberg in spring, was inspired to compose
the following poem exuding intense love of his native
land. Wherever he was, his thoughts always turn to his
faraway homeland, wishing "Peace to my country with
fecund soil, To her women virtue, to her men faith.͟

Go to my country, exotic flow'rs

Sown by the traveler on his path,
And 'neath her cerulean skies,
That keep my loves in their bow'rs,
Tell them about the faith,
For his native land, the pilgrim sighs!
Go ye and say... say that when the dawn
Oped your calyx for the first time,
By the frozen Neckar's side,
You saw him silent beside
You thinking of your constant springtime.
Say thou that when the breeze
That steals away your scents
To you murmurs songs of love a-playing
He too was murmuring
Songs of romance in his native accent;
And when the sun gilds the spire
Of Koenigsthul in the morning,
And with its tepid fire
The vale, woods and thicket animates,
He salutes that sun at its beginning
Which in his land at zenith fulgurates!
And tell about that day
When I did pick you on the wayside,
Amongst the ruins of the feudal castle,
On the Neckar bank or woodlands shady;
Relate what to you I did tell,
When with great care betwixt
The pages of an old book I pressed
Thy petals flexible.

Bring thou with thee, oh flow'rs!

Love to all my amours,
Peace to my country with fecund soil,
To her women virtue, to her men faith,
To sweet and good beings health
That shelters the home holy and paternal...

When upon the shore you alight,

The kiss on you I press
Place it on the wings of the breeze
That it may go with its flight
And kiss all that I love, adore and caress.

But alas! You'll get there, oh flow'rs,

Perhaps you'll retain your colors;
But far from your native, heroic land
To which you owe your life,
You'll lose your fragrant odours;
'Cause aroma's the soul, and ne'er leaves the sky,
Nor forgets, that saw at birth its light.

José Protacio Mercado y Alonso Realonda Rizal (1861 - 1896)

While in Europe for the first time (1882-1887), the loss of Riza's mother's eyesight made him more determined to specialize in ophthalmology. After his studies in
Spain in 1885, he went to Paris and worked in the clinic of Dr. Louise de Wecker, Europe's leading ophthalmologist. He went to Heidelberg and worked under Dr.
Otto Becker where he learned practical operations on eye diseases. He also worked in the clinic of Dr. Carl Schweigger in Berlin and took lessons in ophthalmology in
the University of Leipzig. Fascinated by the beauty of German spring and a feeling of nostalgia, Rizal found inspiration in the beauty of the blooming flowers and the
fragrance of the woods. This inspiration gave birth to a touching poem entitled, "To the Flowers of Heidelberg" which he wrote on April 24, 1886.



 

 P. Rizal

Rizal,  P. "Hymn to Labor." Translated by Encarnacion Alzona. In 2


. Manila: National Historical Institute, 2002, Pp. 132-133.

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: Spoken from four points of view,  Rizal shows the importance of labor and industry in preserving life and well-being of every Filipino.

        

In the following few stanzas Rizal extols man's labor and industry, singing, "Praise to labor / Of the country wealth and vigor." He exhorts the youth to follow in the
footsteps of their industrious elders and thus be worthy of them, for "Incense does not honor the dear / As does a son with glory and valor."

For the Motherland in war

For the Motherland in peace,
Will the Filipino keep watch,
He will live until life will cease!

MEN:

Now the East is glowing with light,

Go! To the field to till the land,
For the labour of man sustains
Fam'ly, home and Motherland.
Hard the land may turn to be.
Scorching the rays of the sun above...
For the country, wife and children
All will be easy to our love.

(Chorus)
WIVES:

Go to work with spirits high,

For the wife keeps home faithfully,
Inculcates love in her children
For virtue, knowledge and country.
When the evening brings repose,
On returning joy awaits you,
And if fate is adverse, the wife,
Shall know the task to continue.

(Chorus)
MAIDENS:

Hail! Hail! Praise to labour,

Of the country wealth and vigor!
For it brow serene 's exalted.
It's her blood, life and ardor.
If some youth would show his love
Labor his faith will sustain:
Only a man who struggles and works
Will his offspring know to maintain.

(Chorus)
CHILDREN:

Teach us ye the laborious work

To pursue your footsteps we wish,
For tomorrow when country calls us
We may be able your task to finish.
And on seeing us the elders will say:
"Look, they're worthy 'f their sires of yore!
Incense does not honor the dead
As does a son with glory and valor.
 3


Jose P. Rizal But, when the winds become furious in a dark night
And restless waves begin to agitate,
Cries rent the air that fill the spirit with fright,
Rizal, Jose P. ͞My Retreat.͟ Translated by Encarnacion Alzona. Mixed voices, pray'rs, lamentations that reverberate
In 2

. Manila: National Historical Institute, 2002, Pp. 143-145 Those of people who once in the sea were lost out of sight.

For a time thereafter the mountains up high rebound,

The trees keep swaying to and fro, there and here;
EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: Jose Rizal describes the natural surroundings of his The cattle cry out loud, the thick groves resound,
place of exile in Talisay, Dapitan. He reminisces his past, his native land Their spirits say to the prairie they are bound
and love ones, and also mentions of his desire to return home. To a fun'ral feast by the dead they're summoned there.



  
 
 
His lonely life as an exile at Talisay, Dapitan, is the subject of this exquisite
poem, written at the insistent request of his mother, who loved poetry. It
displays his descriptive power and his gift of imagery and melody. Though
illegally detained there, he betrays no resentment against his oppressors
and still hopes that "o'er brutal force Idea would prevail" someday.
Beside the wide expanse of fine and sandy shore
And at the foot of the green covered mountain
I built my hut in the grove's delightful core,
To seek in the woodlands' tranquility serene,
Repose for my mind and from my griefs refrain.
Fragile nipa is its roof, bamboo frail its floor,
With rough timber its pillars and its beams are made
It is true my sylvan shack is naught but poor;
But in the mountain lap in dreams it is laid,
Day and night sea lulls it and gives it serenade.
An affluent brook that from the shady confine
Descends between rocks bathes it lovingly,
And a jet of water regales it through a rough pipeline
That in silent night is song and melody
And crystalline nectar during the heat of day.
When the sky is serene, the stream gently flows,
Its hidden cithern plays incessantly;
But when the rains come its current impetuous
Jumps o'er rocks and depths, foaming, bubbling, raucous
And dashes roaring frantically t'ward the sea.
The barking of dogs, the trill of winged warblers
And the   hoarse voice are heard there only;
No importunate neighbor or a vain intruder
Imposes himself upon me or obstructs my way;
Near me, I have only the forest and the sea.
The sea's everything! Its dominant domain
Brings to me the atoms of beings far away;
Its smile, like a limpid morn, enlivens me,
And when in the afternoon my hope proves vain,
The heart finds reflection in its melancholy.
At night it is a myst'ry!... Its lucid sphere
Is overspread with thousands and thousands of light;
A refreshing zephyr wanders, the heavens flare,
The waves in their sighs tell the soft blowing air
Of stories that were lost in the past's dark night.
They say of the earth that at the first glimmer of morn,
Its bosom was inflamed by the sun's first glare,
And thousands of living things from naught were born,
Which the abyss and lofty mountain summit adorn
And it planted its fructifying kiss everywhere.
The night hisses, hisses, perplexing and frightening;
Green, blue flames glowing on the sea are spied;
But with the next dawn tranquility's returning
And soon an audacious little boat come fishing
And on the exhausted waves commences to ride.
Thus in my obscure retreat the days pass by,
From the world where at one time I lived, torn away
For my fortune rare I admire our God on high:
A lost pebble, to be clad with moss wish I
To hide from all the gift I have in me.
I live with the mem'ries of those I have loved before,
And their names by other uttered now and then I hear:
Now some are dead, others think of me no more;
But, what does it matter? I live with the thoughts of yore
And no one can wrest from me the yesteryear.
It is my faithful friend which hurts me ne'er
Which when it sees me and always consoles my soul,
Which in my sleepless night watches me with pray'r
With me, and in my exile dwells in my sylvan lair,
It alone infuses me with faith when I'm doubted by all.
I have it, and one day I await, would shine
That after the struggle and the ling'ring travail,
When o'er brutal force Idea would prevail,
Another voice more son'rous, happier than mine
Shall know then how to sing the triumphant hymn.
So pure and refulgent I see the sky aglow
As it was when I fashioned my first illusion,
The same whiff I fell that kissed my withered brow,
The same that met aflame my keen emotion
And made the blood of the young heart seethe with passion.
I breathe the aura that perhaps had passed o'er
The fields and rivers of my native town;
Bringing back to me what to it I've confided before:
The kisses and sighs of an adored being of yore,
The dulcet secrets of a love first sown.
Upon seeing the same moon silv'ry as before,
I feel drifting back to me the old sorrow's blight;
Awakening mem'ries of love and faith I swore...
A patio, a terrace, a bower and the shore,
Silences and sighs, the blushes of delight...
A butterfly feeling thirsty of light and color,
I dream of other skies and vaster strands,
I left, barely a youth, my loves and native shore,
And wand'ring round no doubts, no fears I bore,
I spent the spring of my life in foreign lands.
 And like a weary swallow, I wished later
To return to the nest of my love and my parents' home,
Unexpectedly roared a windstorm so severe:
My wings were broken, in ruins was my dome,
Trust sold to others, destruction everywhere.
Cast upon a rock of my adored country,
Without a home, poor in health and doomed my future,
My golden, roseate dreams, come again to me,
Of my whole existence my only wealth and treasure,
The beliefs of a youth so vigorous and hearty.
You're not as you were before, full of fire and grace,
That toast a thousand crowns to immortality;
I find you somewhat serious; but your darling face,
If it's not so bright, if its hues have faded away,
On the other hand, has the mark of fidelity.
You offer me, oh illusions, the cup of delight,
You come to awaken my youthful years gone by:
Thanks to you, oh tempest; thanks, oh winds of the sky,
That at the right moment you stopped my uncertain flight,
And upon the soil of my country to cause me to die.
Beside the wide expanse of fine and sandy shore
And at the foot of the green covered mountain
I found in my land an abode in the sylvan core,
And 'neath its shady woods, quietness serene,
Repose for my mind and from my griefs refrain.