To the Flowers of Heidelberg

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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.

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Jose P. Rizal Rizal, Jose P. ͞My Retreat.͟ Translated by Encarnacion Alzona. In 2
 . Manila: National Historical Institute, 2002, Pp. 143-145

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: Jose Rizal describes the natural surroundings of his place of exile in Talisay, Dapitan. He reminisces his past, his native land and love ones, and also mentions of his desire to return home.

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, Mixed voices, pray'rs, lamentations that reverberate 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; The cattle cry out loud, the thick groves resound, Their spirits say to the prairie they are bound 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.