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Translations from Jose Rizal
My Retreat

(To my mother)

 

 

By the sweep of beach, of soft, fine sand,

At the foot of mountain wrapped in green,

I planted my humble hut in the shady wood,

Seeking among the boughs a quietude,

The mind’s respite, a silence for my pain.

 

Its roof is flimsy thatch; its floor, fragile bamboo;

The beams and posts are rough-hewn wood:

Of no great worth, surely, is my rustic shelter;

But upon the eternal mountain’s lap it slumbers,

And nights and days are lulled by the crooning sea.

 

The brimming brook, that in the sylvan shade

Descends among the stones, gently washes it,

Streaming through makeshift bamboo pipes;

It is the tropic night’s song and melody,

And crystal nectar to soothe the noonday heat.

 

If the sky is tranquil, the spring flows meekly,

Strumming without cease its unseen zither to me;

But when the rains come, their impetuous torrent

Spills over stones and gullies—raucous, frothing, roiling—

Heaving with a frenetic roar into the sea.

 

A dog barking, birds twittering,

And the hoarse calls of the hornbill are all I hear;

No boastful man nor importuning neighbor

Intrudes into my mind or disturbs my passage;

Just the forest and the sea are all I have near.

CasaRedonda.jpg

CASA REDONDA (replica of Rizal's clinic), part of the otherwise idyllic internal exile of Rizal in Dapitan town (now city) in the southern province of Zamboanga del Norte. From Iwandered.Net

​

The sea, the sea is all! Its sovereign reach

Brings me atoms from worlds beyond;

Its smile enlivens my limpid mornings;

And when late in the day my faith falters,

Waves of sorrow spill inside my heart.

 

At night, what mystery! …Its diaphanous stretch

Sparkling with thousand points of light;

The breeze drifting cool, the firmament brilliant,

The waves whisper to the wind—all ears—

Histories lost in time’s dark cloak.

 

So it is said of the first morning on earth,

When the sun first set her afire with a kiss:

Creation’s multitude emerged from the Nothing,

To populate the deepest chasms and highest peaks

And everywhere the trembling kiss was pressed.

But when the winds rage in the dark of night,

And the waves in their disquiet begin to heave,

Across the air fly such terrifying shrieks,

A chorus of piteous prayers and laments

From those who, long ago, drowned in the depths.

 

Then high above the mountains vibrate,

Trees sway this way and that as if in a fit;

Beasts moan, their cries resound in the forest;

Their spirits say they’re on their way to the plains,

Summoned by the dead to a funereal feast. 

 

Hissing, hissing, the night trembles with fear;

Green and blue flames burn the sea;

But calm reigns once more before dawning

And soon a brave little fishing vessel

Again begins to dare the weary waves.

 

So pass the days in my obscure retreat:

Exiled from the world where I once dwelt,

A rare fortune, indeed, Providence be praised;

I am a stone that craves none but moss,

To elude all that the world has on me imposed!

 

I live with the memory of those I have loved,

I can still hear their names spoken;

Some have died, others have forgotten;

But what does it matter? I live and own the past,

And no one can take the past away from me.

 

A faithful friend it is, that will never betray me,

That is always there to uplift my grieving soul,

That prays with me in my sleepless nights,

That shares my exile in my dappled shanty,

And when I’m torn by doubt solely restores my faith.

 

Faith it is I have, and I believe the day will shine

When the Idea vanquishes the brute force,

And after the battle and the long agony

Another voice more sonorous, more joyful than my own

Shall then know to sing the song of victory.

 

I see the heavens shining, pure and radiant

As when I first formed my own illusions, 

I feel the same wind kiss my sad brow,

The same that fired my first passionate vows

And stirred the blood within my youthful heart.

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