Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 1 SA AKING MGA KABATA. José Rizal

Transcripción

1 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 1 Kapagka ang baya'y sadyang umiibig Sa kanyang salitang kaloob ng langit, Sanglang kalayaan nasa ring masapit Katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid. Pagka't ang salita'y isang kahatulan Sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharian, At ang isang tao'y katulad, kabagay Ng alin mang likha noong kalayaan. Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salita Mahigit sa hayop at malansang isda, Kaya ang marapat pagyamaning kusa Na tulad sa inang tunay na nagpala. Ang wikang Tagalog tulad din sa Latin Sa Ingles, Kastila at salitang anghel, Sapagka't ang Poong maalam tumingin Ang siyang naggawad, nagbigay sa atin. Ang salita nati'y huwad din sa iba Na may alfabeto at sariling letra, Na kaya nawala'y dinatnan ng sigwa Ang lunday sa lawa noong dakong una. SA AKING MGA KABATA Calamba, 1869

2 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 2 TO MY FELLOW CHILDREN Translated by Frank C. Laubach Whenever people of a country truly love The language which by heav'n they were taught to use That country also surely liberty pursue As does the bird which soars to freer space above. For language is the final judge and referee Upon the people in the land where it holds sway; In truth our human race resembles in this way The other living beings born in liberty. Whoever knows not how to love his native tongue Is worse than any best or evil smelling fish. To make our language richer ought to be our wish The same as any mother loves to feed her young. Tagalog and the Latin language are the same And English and Castilian and the angels' tongue; And God, whose watchful care o'er all is flung, Has given us His blessing in the speech we calim, Our mother tongue, like all the highest tht we know Had alphabet and letters of its very own; But these were lost -- by furious waves were overthrown Like bancas in the stormy sea, long years ago.

3 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 3 Alza su tersa frente, Juventud Filipina, en este día! Luce resplandeciente Tu rica gallardía, Bella esperanza de la Patria Mía! Vuela, genio grandioso, Y les infunde noble pensamiento, Que lance vigoroso, Más rápido que el viento, Su mente virgen al glorioso asiento. Baja con la luz grata De las artes y ciencias a la arena, Juventud, y desata La pesada cadena Que tu genio poético encadena. Ve que en la ardiente zona Do moraron las sombras, el hispano Esplendente corona, Con pía sabia mano, Ofrece al hijo de este suelo indiano. Tú, que buscando subes, En alas de tu rica fantasia, Del Olimpo en las nubes Tiernisima poesia Mas sabrosa que nectar y ambrosia. Tú, de celeste acento, Melodioso rival Filomena, Que en variado concierto En la noche serena Disipas del mortal la amarga pena. Tú que la pena dura Animas al impulso de tu mente, Y la memoria pura Del genio refulgente Eternizas con genio prepotente. A LA JUVENTUD FILIPINA

4 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 4 Y tú, que el vario encanto De Febo, amado del divino Apeles, Y de natura el manto Con mágicos pinceles Trasladar al sencillo lienzo sueles. Corred! que sacra llama Del genio el lauro coronar espera, Esparciendo la Fama Con trompa pregonera El nombre del mortal por la ancha espera. Día, día felice, Filipinas gentil, para tu suelo! Al Potente bendice Que con amante anhelo La ventura te envía y el consuelo. Manila, 1876

5 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 5 Hold high the brow serene, O youth, where now you stand; Let the bright sheen Of your grace be seen, Fair hope of my fatherland! Come now, thou genius grand, And bring down inspiration; With thy mighty hand, Swifter than the wind's violation, Raise the eager mind to higher station. Come down with pleasing light Of art and science to the fight, O youth, and there untie The chains that heavy lie, Your spirit free to blight. See how in flaming zone Amid the shadows thrown, The Spaniard'a holy hand A crown's resplendent band Proffers to this Indian land. Thou, who now wouldst rise On wings of rich emprise, Seeking from Olympian skies Songs of sweetest strain, Softer than ambrosial rain; Thou, whose voice divine Rivals Philomel's refrain And with varied line Through the night benign Frees mortality from pain; Thou, who by sharp strife Wakest thy mind to life ; And the memory bright Of thy genius' light Makest immortal in its strength ; TO THE PHILIPPINE YOUTH Translated by Charles Derbyshire

6 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 6 And thou, in accents clear Of Phoebus, to Apelles dear ; Or by the brush's magic art Takest from nature's store a part, To fig it on the simple canvas' length ; Go forth, and then the sacred fire Of thy genius to the laurel may aspire ; To spread around the fame, And in victory acclaim, Through wider spheres the human name. Day, O happy day, Fair Filipinas, for thy land! So bless the Power to-day That places in thy way This favor and this fortune grand!

7 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 7 SA KABATAANG PILIPINO Itaas ang iyong noong aliwalas ngayon, Kabataan ng aking pangarap! ang aking talino na tanging liwanag ay pagitawin mo, Pag-asa ng Bukas! Ikaw ay lumitaw, O Katalinuhan magitang na diwang puno sa isipan mga puso nami'y sa iyo'y naghihintay at dalhin mo roon sa kaitaasan. Bumaba kang taglay ang kagiliw-giliw na mga silahis ng agham at sining mga Kabataan, hayo na't lagutin ang gapos ng iyong diwa at damdamin. Masdan ang putong na lubhang makinang sa gitna ng dilim ay matitigan maalam na kamay, may dakilang alay sa nagdurusa mong bayang minamahal. Ikaw na may bagwis ng pakpak na nais kagyat na lumipad sa tuktok ng langit paghanapin mo ang malambing na tinig doon sa Olimpo'y pawang nagsisikap. Ikaw na ang himig ay lalong mairog Tulad ni Pilomel na sa luha'y gamut at mabisang lunas sa dusa't himuntok ng puso at diwang sakbibi ng lungkot Ikaw, na ang diwa'y makapangyarihan matigas na bato'y mabibigyang-buhay mapagbabago mo alaalang taglay sa iyo'y nagiging walang kamatayan. Ikaw, na may diwang inibig ni Apeles sa wika inamo ni Pebong kay rikit sa isang kaputol na lonang maliit ginuhit ang ganda at kulay ng langit.

8 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 8 Humayo ka ngayon, papagningasin mo ang alab ng iyong isip at talino maganda mong ngala'y ikalat sa mundo at ipagsigawan ang dangal ng tao. Araw na dakila ng ligaya't galak magsaya ka ngayon, mutyang Pilipinas purihin ang bayang sa iyo'y lumingap at siyang nag-akay sa mabuting palad.

9 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 9 Dulces las horas en la propia patria Donde es amigo cuanto alumbra el sol, Vida es la brisa en sus campos vuela, Grata la muerte y más tierno el amor! Ardientes besos en los labios juegan, De una madre en el seno al despertar, Buscan los brazos a ceñir al cuello, Y los ojos sonríense al mirar. Dulce es la muerte por la propia patria, Donde es amigo cuanto alumbra el sol; Muerte es la brisa para quien no tiene Una patria, una madre y un amor! CANTO DEL MARÍA 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! THE SONG OF MARÍA CLARA Translated by Nick Joaquin

10 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 10 Kay tamis mabuhay sa sariling bayan Lahat kaibigan sa silong ng araw, Buhay kahit simoy na buhat sa parang, Aliw ang mamatay, umibig ay banal. May sarili ka bang bayan? Dahil ako y nalulumbay, Huwag akong hahanapan Ng bayan kong akin lamang! Maalab na halik sa labi y kasaliw Magmula sa dibdib ng na paggising; Ang hanap ng bisig siya ay yapusin, At napapangiti ang mata pagtingin. May ina ka bang nagmahal? Dahil ako y nalulumbay, Huwag akong hahanapan Ng ina kong akin lamang! Kay tamis mamatay kung dahil sa bayan, Lahat kaibigan sa silong ng araw; Lason kahit simoy para sa sinumang Walang bayan, walang ina t minamahal. ANG AWIT NI MARÍA CLARA salin ni Virgilio S. Almario, Noli Me Tangere salin ni Virgilio S. Almario (Lungsod Quezon: Adarna House, Inc., 1998),

11 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 11 ANG AWIT NI MARÍA CLARA Walang kasintamis ang mga sandali sa sariling bayan, Doon sa ang lahat ay pinagpapala ng halik ng araw, May buhay na dulot ang mahinhing simoy na galing sa parang. Pagsinta'y matimyas, at napakatamis ng kamatayan man. Maapoy na halik, ang idinarampi ng labi ng ina Paggising ng sanggol sa kanyang kandungan na walang balisa, Pagkawit sa leeg ng bisig na sabik pa-uumaga na, Matang manininging ay nangakangiti't pupos ng ligaya. Mamatay ay langit kung dahil sa ating lupang tinubuan, Doon sa ang lahat ay pinagpapala ng halik ng araw, Ang mahinhing simoy na galing sa bukid ay lubhang mapanglaw Sa wala nang ina, wala nang tahana't walang nagmamahal.

12 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 12 Id a mi patria, id, extranjeras flores, sembradas del viajero en el camino, y bajo su azul cielo, que guarda mis amores, contad del peregrino la fe que alienta por su patrio suelo! id y decid... decid que cuando el alba vuestro cáliz abrió por vez primera cabe el Neckar helado, le visteis silencioso a vuestro lado pensando en su constante primavera. Decid que cuando el alba, que roba vuestro aroma, cantos de amor jugando os susurraba, él tambien murmuraba cantos de amor en su natal idioma; que cuando el sol la cumbre del Koenigsthul en la mañana dora y con su tibia lumbre anima el valle, el bosque y la espesura, saluda a ese sol aún en su aurora, al que en su patria en el cenit fulgura! y contad aquel día cuando os cogía al borde del sendero, entre ruinas del feudal castillo, orilla al Neckar, o a la selva umbria. Contad lo que os decía, cuando, con gran ciudado entre las páginas de un libro usado vuestras flexibles hojas oprimía. Llevad, llevad, oh flores! amor a mis amores paz a mi país y a su fecunda tierra, fe a sus hombres, virtud a sus mujeres, salud a dulces seres que el paternal, sagrado hogar encierra... A LAS FLORES DE HEIDELBERG

13 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 13 Cuando toqueis la playa, el beso os imprimo depositadlo en ala de la brisa, por que con ella vaya y bese cuanto adora, amo y estimo. Mas ay llegáreis flores, conservaréis quizas vuestras colores, pero lejos del patrio, heroico suelo a quien debéis la vida: que aroma es alma, y no abandona el cielo, cuya luz viera en su nacer, ni olvida. Heidelberg, April 22, 1886

14 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 14 TO THE FLOWERS OF HEIDELBERG Translated by Nick Joaquin Go to my country, go, O foreign flowers, sown by the traveler along the road, and under that blue heaven that watches over my loved ones, recount the devotion the pilgrim nurses for his native sod! Go and say say that when dawn opened your chalices for the first time beside the icy Neckar, you saw him silent beside you, thinking of her constant vernal clime. Say that when dawn which steals your aroma was whispering playful love songs to your young sweet petals, he, too, murmured canticles of love in his native tongue; that in the morning when the sun first traces the topmost peak of Koenigssthul in gold and with a mild warmth raises to life again the valley, the glade, the forest, he hails that sun, still in its dawning, that in his country in full zenith blazes. And tell of that day when he collected you along the way among the ruins of a feudal castle, on the banks of the Neckar, or in a forest nook. Recount the words he said as, with great care, between the pages of a worn-out book he pressed the flexible petals that he took. Carry, carry, O flowers, my love to my loved ones, peace to my country and its fecund loam, faith to its men and virtue to its women, health to the gracious beings that dwell within the sacred paternal home.

15 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 15 When you reach that shore, deposit the kiss I gave you on the wings of the wind above that with the wind it may rove and I may kiss all that I worship, honor and love! But O you will arrive there, flowers, and you will keep perhaps your vivid hues; but far from your native heroic earth to which you owe your life and worth, your fragrances you will lose! For fragrance is a spirit that never can forsake and never forgets the sky that saw its birth.

16 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 16 SA MGA BULAKLAK NG HEIDELBERG Pumaroon kayo sa mutya kong bayang pinakamamahal, O mga bulaklak na hasik sa landas niyong manlalakbay, At doon, sa silong ng maaliwalas na langit na bughaw, Sa mga mahal ko'y di nagpapabaya't laging nagbabantay, Inyong ibalita itong pananalig na sa puso'y taglay Ng abang lagalag na di lumilimot sa nilisang bayan. Pumaroon kayo, inyong ibalitang madilim-dilim pa, Kung kayo, sa bati ng bukang-liwayway, ay bumubukad na, Sa pampang ng Neckar na lubhang malamig ay naroon siya, At sa inyong tabi'y inyong namamasid na parang estatuwa, Ang Tagsibol doong hindi nagbabago'y binubulay niya. Inyong ibalitang kung sinisingil na ng bukang-liwayway Ang buwis na bango ng inyong talulot pag ngiti ng araw, Habang bumubulong ang bagong umagang halik ang kasabay Ng "Kung inyo lamang nababatid sana yaring pagmamahal!" Siya'y may bulong ding inaawit-awit sa katahimikan, Kundiman ng puso na sa kanyang wika'y inyong napakinggan. At kung sa taluktok niyong Koenigsthul ay humahalik na Ang mapulang labi ng anak ng araw sa pag-uumaga, At ang mga lambak, gubat at kahuya'y binubusog niya Sa daloy ng buhay na dulot ng sinag na malahininga, Yaong manlalakbay ay bumabati ring puspos ng ligaya Sa araw, na doon sa sariling baya'y laging nagbabaga. At ibalita rin na nang minsang siya'y naglalakad-lakad Sa pampang ng Neckar ay pinupol kayo sa gilid ng landas, Doon sa ang tanod ay ang mga guhong bakas ng lumipas, Na nalililiman ng maraming punong doo'y naggugubat. Ibalita ninyo kung paanong kayo'y marahang pinupol, Pinakaingatang huwag masisira ang sariwang dahon, At sa kanyang aklat ay ipinaloob at doon kinuyom, Aklat ay luma na, datapuwa't kayo'y naroon pa ngayon. Hatdan, hatdan ninyo, O pinakatanging bulaklak ng Rin, Hatdan ng pag-ibig ang lahat ng aking nga ginigiliw, Sa bayan kong sinta ay kapayapaan ang tapat kong hiling, Sa kababaihan ay binhi ng tapang ang inyong itanim; Pagsadyain ninyo, O mga bulaklak, at inyong batiin Ang mga mahal kong sa tahanang banal ay kasama namin.

17 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 17 At pagsapit ninyo sa dalampasigan ng bayan kong irog, Bawa't halik sanang idinarampi ko sa inyong talulot Ay inyong isakay sa pakpak ng hanging doo'y lumilibot, Upang sa lahat nang iginagalang ko't sinisitang lubos Nawa'y makasapit ang halik ng aking pag-ibig na taos. Maaaring doo'y makarating kayong taglay pa ang kulay, Subali't ang bango'y wala na marahil at kusang pumanaw, Wala na ang samyong sa talulot ninyo'y iningatang yaman, Pagka't malayo na sa lupang sa inyo'y nagbigay ng buhay; Iwing halimuyak ang inyong kaluluwa, at di malilisan Ni malilimot pa ang langit na saksi nang kayo'y isilang.

18 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 18 Cabe anchurosa playa de fina y suave arena y al pie de una montaña cubierta de verdor planté mi choza humilde bajo arboleda amena, buscando de los bosques en la quietud serena reposo a mi cerebro, silencio a mi dolor. Su techo es frágil su suelo débil cana, sus vigas y columnas maderas sin labrar; nada vale, por cierto, mi rústica cabaña; mas duerme en el regazo de la eterna montaña, y la canta y la arrulla noche y días el mar. Un afluente arroyuelo, que de la selva umbria desciende entre peñascos, la baña con amor, y un chorro le regala por tosca cañería que en la cálida noche es canto y melodía y néctar cristalino del día en el calor. MI RETIRO Si el cielo esta sereno, mansa corre la fuente, Su cítara invisible tañedo sin cesar; pero vienen las lluvias, e impetuoso torrente peñas y abismos salta, ronco, espumante, hirviente, y se arroja rugiendo frenético hacia el mar. Del perro los ladridos, de las aves trino del kalao la voz ronca solas se oyen alli, no hay hombre vanidoso ni importuno vecino que se imponga a mi mente, ni estorbo mi camino; solo tengo las selvas y el mar cerca de mí. El mar, el mar es todo! su masa soberana los átomos me trae de mundos que lejos son; me alienta su sonrisa de límpida mañana, y cuando por la tarde mi fe resulta vana encuentra en sus tristezas un eco el corazón. De noche es un arcano!... su diáfano elemento se cubre de millares, y millares de luz; la brisa vaga fresca, reluce el firmamento, las olas en suspiros cuentan al manso viento historias que se pierden del tiempo en el capiz.

19 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 19 Dizque cuentan del mundo la primera alborada, del sol el primer beso que su seno encendió, cuando miles de seres surgieron de la nada, y el abismo poblaron y la cima encumbrada y doquiera su beso facundante estampó. Mas cuando en noche oscura los vientos enfurecen y las inquietas alas comienzan a agitar, crusan en aire gritos que el ánimo estremecen, coros, voces que rezan, lamentos que parecen exhalar los que un tiempo se hundieron en el mar. Entonces repercuten los montes de la altura, los árboles se agitan de confín a confín; aullan los ganados, retumba la espesura, sus espíritus dicen que van a la llanura llamadas por los muertos a fúnebre festín. Silva, silva la noche, confusa, aterradora; verdes, azules llamas en el mar vense arder; mas la calma renace con la próxima aurora y pronto una atrevida barquilla pescadora las fatigadas alas comienza a recorrer. Asi pasan los días en mi oscuro retiro, desterrado del mundo donde tiempo viví, de mi rara fortuna la providencia admiro: quijarro abandonado que al musgo solo aspiro para ocultar a todos el mundo que tengo en mí! Vivo con los recuerdos de los que yo he amado y oigo de vez en cuando sus nombres pronunciar: unos estan ya muertos, otros me han abandonado; mas que importa?... Yo vivo pensando en lo pasado y lo pasado nadie me puede arrebatar. El es mi fiel amigo que nunca me desdora que siempre alienta el alma cuando triste la ve, que en mis noches de insomnio conmigo vela y ora conmigo, y en mi destierro y en mi cabaña mora, y cuando todos dudan solo él me infunde fe.

20 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 20 Yo la tengo, y yo espero que ha de brillar un día en que venza la idea a la fuerza brutal, que después de la lucha y la lente agonía, otra voz mas sonora y mas feliz que la mía sabrá cantar entonces el cántico truinfal. Veo brillar el cielo tan puro y refulgente como cuando forjaba mi primera ilusión, el mismo soplo siento besar mi mustia frente, el mismo que encendía mi entusiasmo ferviente y hacía hervir la sangre del joven corazón. Yo respiro la brisa que acaso haya pasado por los campos y ríos de mi pueblo natal; acaso me devuelva lo que antes le he confiado los besos y suspiros de un ser idolatrado, las dulces confidencias de un amor virginal! Al ver la misma luna, cual antes argentada, la antigua melancolía siento en mi renancer; despiertan mil recuerdos de amor y fe jurada... un patio, una azotea, la playa, un enramada, silencios y suspiros, rubores de placer... Mariposa sedienta de la luz y de colores, sonando en otros cielos y en más vasto pensil, dejé, jóven apenas, mi patria y mis amores, y errante por doquiera sin dudas, sin temores, gasté en tierras extrañas de mi vida de abril. Y despues, cuando quise, golondrina causada, al nido de mis padres y de mi amor volver, rugió fiera de pronto violenta turbonada: vense rotas mis alas, desecha la morada, la fe vendida a otros y ruinas por doquier. Lanzado a una pana de la patria que adora, el porvenir destruído, sin hogar, sin salud, de toda mi existencia el único tesoro, creencias de una sana, sincera juventud. Ya no sóis como antes, llenas de fuego y vida brindando mil coronas a la inmortalidad; algo serias os hallo; mas nuestra faz querida si ya es tan sincera, si esta descolorida en cambio lleva el sello de la fidelidad.

21 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 21 Me ofrecéis, oh ilusiones! la copa del consuelo, y mis jovenes años a despertar venís: gracias a ti, tormenta; gracias, vientos del cielo, que a buena hora supísteis cortar mi incierto vuelo, para abatirme al suelo de mi natal país. Cabe anchurosa playa de fina y suave arena y al pie de una montaña cubierta de verdor, hallé en mi patria asilo bajo arboleda amena, y en sus umbrosos bosques, tranquilidad serena, reposo a mi cerebro, silencio a mi dolor. Dapitan, 1895

22 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 22 MY RETREAT Translated by Nick Joaquin Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf, I planted my humble hut beneath a pleasant orchard, seeking in the still serenity of the woods repose to my intellect and silence to my grief. Its roof is fragile nipa; its floor is brittle bamboo; its beams and posts are rough as rough-hewn wood can be; of no worth, it is certain, is my rustic cabin; but on the lap of the eternal mount it slumbers and night and day is lulled by the crooning of the sea. The overflowing brook, that from the shadowy jungle descends between huge bolders, washes it with its spray, donating a current of water through makeshift bamboo pipes that in the silent night is melody and music and crystalline nectar in the noon heat of the day. If the sky is serene, meekly flows the spring, strumming on its invisible zither unceasingly; but come the time of the rains, and an impetuous torrent spills over rocks and chasms hoarse, foaming and aboil to hurl itself with a frenzied roaring toward the sea. The barking of the dog, the twittering of the birds, the hoarse voice of the kalaw are all that I hear; there is no boastful man, no nuisance of a neighbor to impose himself on my mind or to disturb my passage; only the forests and the sea do I have near. The sea, the sea is everything! Its sovereign mass brings to me atoms of a myriad faraway lands; its bright smile animates me in the limpid mornings; and when at the end of day my faith has proven futile, my heart echoes the sound of its sorrow on the sands. At night it is a mystery! Its diaphanous element is carpeted with thousands and thousands of lights that climb; the wandering breeze is cool, the firmament is brilliant, the waves narrate with many a sigh to the mild wind histories that were lost in the dark night of time.

23 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 23 Tis said they tell of the first morning on the earth, of the first kiss with which the sun inflamed her breast, when multitudes of beings materialized from nothing to populate the abyss and the overhanging summits and all the places where that quickening kiss was pressed. But when the winds rage in the darkness of the night and the unquiet waves commence their agony, across the air move cries that terrify the spirit, a chorus of voices praying, a lamentation that seems to come from those who, long ago, drowned in the sea. Then do the mountain ranges on high reverberate; the trees stir far and wide, by a fit of trembling seized; the cattle moan; the dark depths of the forest resound; their spirits say that they are on their way to the plain, summoned by the dead to a mortuary feast. The wild night hisses, hisses, confused and terrifying; one sees the sea afire with flames of green and blue; but calm is re-established with the approach of dawning and forthwith an intrepid little fishing vessel begins to navigate the weary waves anew. So pass the days of my life in my obscure retreat; cast out of the world where once I dwelt: such is my rare good fortune; and Providence be praised for my condition: a disregarded pebble that craves nothing but moss to hide from all the treasure that in myself I bear. I live with the remembrance of those that I have loved and hear their names still spoken, who haunt my memory; some already are dead, others have long forgotten but what does it matter? I live remembering the past and no one can ever take the past away from me. It is my faithful friend that never turns against me, that cheers my spirit when my spirit s a lonesome wraith, that in my sleepless nights keeps watch with me and prays with me, and shares with me my exile and my cabin, and, when all doubt, alone infuses me with faith.

24 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 24 Faith do I have, and I believe the day will shine when the Idea shall defeat brute force as well; and after the struggle and the lingering agony a voice more eloquent and happier than my own will then know how to utter victory s canticle. I see the heavens shining, as flawless and refulgent as in the days that saw my first illusions start; I feel the same breeze kissing my autumnal brow, the same that once enkindled my fervent enthusiasm and turned the blood ebullient within my youthful heart. Across the fields and rivers of my native town perhaps has traveled the breeze that now I breathe by chance; perhaps it will give back to me what once I gave it: the sighs and kisses of a person idolized and the sweet secrets of a virginal romance. On seeing the same moon, as silvery as before, I feel within me the ancient melancholy revive; a thousand memories of love and vows awaken: a patio, an azotea, a beach, a leafy bower; silences and sighs, and blushes of delight A butterfly athirst for radiances and colors, dreaming of other skies and of a larger strife, I left, scarcely a youth, my land and my affections, and vagrant everywhere, with no qualms, with no terrors, squandered in foreign lands the April of my life. And afterwards, when I desired, a weary swallow, to go back to the nest of those for whom I care, suddenly fiercely roared a violent hurricane and I found my wings broken, my dwelling place demolished, faith now sold to others, and ruins everywhere. Hurled upon a rock of the country I adore; the future ruined; no home, no health to bring me cheer; you come to me anew, dreams of rose and gold, of my entire existence the solitary treasure, convictions of a youth that was healthy and sincere.

25 Michael Charleston B. Chua, KasPil1 readings, DLSU-Manila 25 No more are you, like once, full of fire and life, offering a thousand crowns to immortality; somewhat serious I find you; and yet your face beloved, if now no longer as merry, if now no longer as vivid, now bear the superscription of fidelity. You offer me, O illusions, the cup of consolation; you come to reawaken the years of youthful mirth; hurricane, I thank you; winds of heaven, I thank you that in good hour suspended by uncertain flight to bring me down to the bosom of my native earth. Beside a spacious beach of fine and delicate sand and at the foot of a mountain greener than a leaf, I found in my land a refuge under a pleasant orchard, and in its shadowy forests, serene tranquility, repose to my intellect and silence to my grief.