Mi último adiós

"Mi último adiós" (Spanish for "My Last Farewell") is a poem written by Philippine national hero José Rizal on the eve of his execution on December 30, 1896. Although the poem was untitled, this title served as an artifice useful as a quick reference. This poem was one of the last notes he wrote before his execution. Another that he had written before his death was found in his shoe but because the text could not be read it remains a mystery.

Contents

Title

Rizal did not inscribe a title to his poem. Mariano Ponce, his friend and fellow reformist, titled it Mi Último Pensamiento in the copies he distributed, but this did not catch on. Here is a copy of news story taken from The Inquirer dated December 30, 2002:

On the afternoon of Dec. 29, 1896, a day before his execution, Dr. Jose Rizal was visited by his mother, Teodora Alonzo, sisters Lucia, Josefa, Trinidad, Maria and Narcisa, and two nephews. When they took their leave, Rizal told Trinidad in English that there was something in the small alcohol stove (cocinilla), not alcohol lamp (lamparilla). The stove was given to Narcisa by the guard when the party was about to board their carriage in the courtyard. At home, the Rizal ladies recovered from the stove a folded paper. On it was written an unsigned, untitled and undated poem of 14 five-line stanzas. The Rizals reproduced copies of the poem and sent them to Rizal's friends in the country and abroad. In 1897, Mariano Ponce in Hong Kong had the poem printed with the title "Mi Ultimo Pensamiento." Fr. Mariano Dacanay, who received a copy of the poem while a prisoner in Bilibid(jail), published it in the first issue of La Independencia on Sept. 25, 1898 with the title "Ultimo Adios." N.B. The stove was not delivered until after the execution. Rizal needed it to light the room and to be able to write the poem and his other parting words. VGPas 10/21/08.

Thus did Rizal's untitled, undated and unsigned last poem became popularly known as "Último adiós," or "Mi último adiós."

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 A. Cooper recited the poem before the U.S. House of Representatives. Realising the nobility of the piece's author, his fellow congressmen enacted the Philippine Bill of 1902 (renamed Jones Law) enabling self-government. With that speech, the US Congress passed the bill into law which is now known as the Philippine Organic Act of 1902, despite the fact that the United States at that time still had the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act in effect and African Americans has yet to be granted equal rights as US Citizens.[1] It created the Philippine legislature, appointed two Filipino delegates to the US Congress, extended the US Bill of Rights to Filipinos, and laid the foundation for an autonomous government. The colony was on its way to independence. although relative complete autonomy would not be granted to the nation until 1946 at the Treaty of Manila which reclaimed the legacies of the June 12,1898 Philippine Republic.

This same poem which has inspired liberty-loving peoples across the region and beyond was recited (in its Bahasa Indonesia translation of Rosihan Anwar) by Indonesian soldiers of independence before going into battle.[2]

Rosihan Anwar recalled the circumstances of the translation: “The situation was favorable to promote nationalism. [On Sept. 7, 1944, Prime Minister Koiso of Japan declared that the ‘East Indies’ would become independent soon, an announcement that was received enthusiastically throughout the islands, and got ecstatic treatment in Asia Raya the following day.] In that context, I thought it would be good that I could disseminate this story about Jose Rizal among our younger people at that time. It was quite natural; I thought it would be good to tell the story of Jose Rizal, this rebel against the Spanish. And of course the climax, when he was already sentenced to death and then hauled off to face firing squad, and he wrote that [poem] ….”

“I translated it from the English. Because I do not know Spanish. I know French, I know German, but not Spanish. Then, according to the custom at that time, everything you want to say over the radio station or anything you wanted to publish in a newspaper … everything must go first to the censorship. I sent it to [the] censor, no objection, it’s okay. Okay. Then I made an arrangement, with my friend, [an] Indonesian friend, who worked at the radio station, where everything was supposed to be supervised by the Japanese. He gave me a chance to read it, which I did …”[3]

He read Rizal’s farewell poem over Jakarta radio on Saturday, Dec. 30, Rizal’s 48th death anniversary. The same day, Asia Raya devoted almost half of its back page to a feature and poem on Rizal written by Anwar, and to Anwar’s translation of the poem.

Poem

Spanish (Original) English Filipino (Jose Gatmaitan)

"Mi Último Adiós"

Adios, Patria adorada, region del sol querida,
Perla del Mar de Oriente, nuestro perdido eden,
A darte voy alegre, la triste, mustia vida;
Ya fuera mas brillante, mas fresca mas 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 lóbrero capuz;
Si grana necesitas, para tenir tu aurora,
Vierte la sangre mia, derramala en buen hora,
Y dorela un reflejo de su naciente luz!

Mis sueños, cuando apenas muchado adolescente,
Mis sueños cuando joven, ya lleno de vigor,
Fueron el verte un dia, joya del mar de Oriente,
Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,
Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor.

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo,
¡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 dia,
Entre la espesa yerba sencilla humilde flor,
Acercala a tus labios y besa al alma mia,
Y sienta yo en mi frente, bajo la tumba fria,
De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja a la luna verme, con luz tranquila y suave,
Deja que el elba envie su resplandor fugas;
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 mi 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 huerfanos y viudas, por presos entortura;
Y ora por ti, que veas tu redención final.

Y cuando, en noche oscura, se envuela el cementerio,
Y solos solo muertos queden velando alli,
No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio;
Tal ves acordes oigas de citara o salterio;
Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a ti.

Y cuando ya mi tumba, de todas 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 sere para tu oido;
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 adois.
Ahi, 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.

Adios, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mia,
Amigos de la infrancia, en el perdido hogar;
Dal gracias, que descanso del fatigoso dia;
Adios, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegria;
Adios, queridos seres. Morir es descansar.

"My Last Farewell"

Farewell, my adored Land, region of the sun caressed,
Pearl of the Orient Sea, our Eden lost,
With gladness I give you my Life, sad and repressed;
And were it more brilliant, more fresh and at its best,
I would still give it to you for your welfare at most.

On the fields of battle, in the fury of fight,
Others give you their lives without pain or hesitancy,
The place does not matter: cypress laurel, lily white,
Scaffold, open field, conflict or martyrdom's site,
It is the same if asked by home and Country.

I die as I see tints on the sky b'gin to show
And at last announce the day, after a gloomy night;
If you need a hue to dye your matutinal glow,
Pour my blood and at the right moment spread it so,
And gild it with a reflection of your nascent light!

My dreams, when scarcely a lad adolescent,
My dreams when already a youth, full of vigor to attain,
Were to see you, gem of the sea of the Orient,
Your dark eyes dry, smooth brow held to a high plane
Without frown, without wrinkles and of shame without stain.

My life's fancy, my ardent, passionate desire,
Hail! Cries out the soul to you, that will soon part from thee;
Hail! How sweet 'tis to fall that fullness you may acquire;
To die to give you life, 'neath your skies to expire,
And in your mystic land to sleep through eternity !

If over my tomb some day, you would see blow,
A simple humble flow'r amidst thick grasses,
Bring it up to your lips and kiss my soul so,
And under the cold tomb, I may feel on my brow,
Warmth of your breath, a whiff of your tenderness.

Let the moon with soft, gentle light me descry,
Let the dawn send forth its fleeting, brilliant light,
In murmurs grave allow the wind to sigh,
And should a bird descend on my cross and alight,
Let the bird intone a song of peace o'er my site.

Let the burning sun the raindrops vaporize
And with my clamor behind return pure to the sky;
Let a friend shed tears over my early demise;
And on quiet afternoons when one prays for me on high,
Pray too, oh, my Motherland, that in God may rest I.

Pray thee for all the hapless who have died,
For all those who unequalled torments have undergone;
For our poor mothers who in bitterness have cried;
For orphans, widows and captives to tortures were shied,
And pray too that you may see you own redemption.

And when the dark night wraps the cemet'ry
And only the dead to vigil there are left alone,
Don't disturb their repose, don't disturb the mystery:
If you hear the sounds of cithern or psaltery,
It is I, dear Country, who, a song t'you intone.

And when my grave by all is no more remembered,
With neither cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let it be plowed by man, with spade let it be scattered
And my ashes ere to nothingness are restored,
Let them turn to dust to cover your earthly space.

Then it doesn't matter that you should forget me:
Your atmosphere, your skies, your vales I'll sweep;
Vibrant and clear note to your ears I shall be:
Aroma, light, hues, murmur, song, moanings deep,
Constantly repeating the essence of the faith I keep.

My idolized Country, for whom I most gravely pine,
Dear Philippines, to my last goodbye, oh, harken
There I leave all: my parents, loves of mine,
I'll go where there are no slaves, tyrants or hangmen
Where faith does not kill and where God alone does reign.

Farewell, parents, brothers, beloved by me,
Friends of my childhood, in the home distressed;
Give thanks that now I rest from the wearisome day;
Farewell, sweet stranger, my friend, who brightened my way;
Farewell, to all I love. To die is to rest.

"Huling Paalam"

Paalam, sintang lupang tinubuan,
bayang masagana sa init ng araw,
Edeng maligaya sa ami’y pumanaw,
at perlas ng dagat sa dakong Silangan.

Inihahandog ko ng ganap na tuwa
sa iyo yaring buhay na lanta na’t aba;
naging dakila ma’y iaalay rin nga
kung dahil sa iyong ikatitimawa.

Ang nanga sa digmaan dumog sa paglaban
handog din sa iyo ang kanilang buhay,
hirap ay di pansin at di gunamgunam
ang pagkaparool o pagtagumpay.

Bibitaya’t madlang mabangis na sakit
o pakikibakang lubhang mapanganib,
pawang titiisin kung ito ang nais
ng baya’t tahanang pinakaiibig.

Ako’y mamamatay ngayong minamalas
ang kulay ng langit na nanganganinag
ibinababalang araw ay sisikat,
sa kabila niyang mapanglaw na ulap.

Kung dugo ang iyong kinakailangan
sa ikadidilag ng iyong pagsilang,
dugo ko’y ibubo’t sa isa man lamang
nang gumigiti mong sinag ay kuminang.

Ang mga nasa ko, mulang magkaisip,
magpahanggang ngayong maganap ang bait,
ang ikaw’y makitang hiyas na marikit
ng dagat Silangan na nakaliligid.

Noo mo’y maningning at sa mga mata
mapait na luha bakas ma’y wala na,
wala ka ng poot, wala ng balisa,
walang kadungua’t munti mang pangamba.

Sa sandaling buhay maalab kong nais
ang kagalingan mo’t ang paiwang sulit
ng kaluluwa kong gayak ng aalis,
ginhawa’y kamtan mo. Anong pagkarikit!

Nang maaba’t ikaw’y mapataas lamang,
mamatay at upang mabigyan kang buhay,
malibing sa lupang puspos ng karikta’t
sa silong ng iyong langit ay mahimlay.

Kung sa ibang araw ikaw’y may mapansin
nipot na bulaklak sa aba kong libing,
sa gitna ng mga damong masisinsin,
hagka’t ang halik mo’y itaos sa akin.

Sa samyo ng iyong pagsuyong matamis,
mataos na taghoy ng may sintang dibdib,
bayang tumaggap noo ko ng init,
na natatabunan ng lupang malamig.

Bayaan mong ako’y malasin ng buwan
sa liwanag niyang hilaw at malamlam;
bayaang ihatid sa aking liwayway
ang banaag niyang dagling napaparam.

Bayaang humalik ang simoy ng hangin;
bayaang sa huning masaya’y awitin;
ng darapong ibon sa kurus ng libing
ang buhay payapang ikinaaaliw.

Bayaang ang araw na lubhang maningas
pawiin ang ulan, gawing pawang ulap,
maging panginuring sa langit umakyat,
at ang aking daing ay mapakilangkap.

Bayaang ang aking maagang pagpanaw,
itangis ng isang lubos na nagmamahal;
kung may umalala sa akin ng dasal,
ako’y iyo sanang idalangin naman.

Idalangin mo rin ang di nagkapalad,
na nangamatay na’t yaong nangaghirap
sa daming pasakit, at ang lumalanghap
naming mga ina ng luhang masaklap.

Idalangin sampo ng bawa’t ulila
at nangapipiit na tigib ng dusa;
idalangin mo ring ikaw’y matubos na
sa pagkaaping laong binabata.

Kung nababalot na ang mga libingan
ng sapot na itim ng gabing mapanglaw,
at wala ng tanod kundi pawang patay,
huwang gambalain ang katahimikan.

Pagpitaganan mo ang hiwagang lihim,
at mapapakinggan ang tinig marahil,
ng isang salteryo: Ito nga’y ako ring
inaawitan ka ng aking paggiliw.

Kung ang libingan ko'y limot na ng madla
ay wala nang kurus at bato mang tanda
sa nangagbubukid ay ipaubayang
bungkali’t isabog ang natipong lupa.

Ang mga abo ko’y bago pailanlang
mauwi sa wala na pinanggalingan,
ay makaulit munang parang kapupunan
ng iyong alabok sa lupang tuntungan.

Sa gayo’y wala ng anoman sa akin,
na limutin mo na’t aking lilibutin
ang himpapawid mo kaparanga’t hangin
at ako sa iyo’y magiging taginting.

Bango, tinig, higing, awit na masaya
liwanag at kulay na lugod ng mata’t
uulit-ulitin sa tuwi-tuwina
ang kataimtiman ng aking pag-asa.

Sintang Pilipinas, lupa kong hinirang,
sakit ng sakit ko, ngayon ay pakinggan
huling paalam ko't sa iyo'y iiwan
ang lahat at madlang inirog sa buhay.

Ako’y yayao na sa bayang payapa,
na walang alipi’t punong mapang-aba,
doo’y di nanatay ang paniniwala
at ang naghahari'y Diyos na dakila.

Paalam anak, magulang, kapatid,
bahagi ng puso’t unang nakaniig,
ipagpasalamat ang aking pag-alis
sa buhay na itong lagi ng ligalig.

Paalam na liyag, tanging kaulayaw,
taga ibang lupang aking katuwaan;
paaalam sa inyo, mga minamahal;
mamatay ay ganap na katahimikan.

Translations

Mi último adiós could be the most translated patriotic swan song in the world, and interpretations into 46 Filipino languages including Filipino Sign Language[1], and as of 2005 at least 35 English translations known and published (in print). The most popular English iteration is the 1911 translation of Charles Derbyshire and is inscribed on bronze. Also on bronze at the Rizal Park in Manila, but less known, is the 1944 one of novelist Nick Joaquin. The latest translation is in Czech made by a Czech diplomat and addressed at the session of their Senate.

This poem has been translated into at least 38 other languages:

  • Bengali
  • Bulgarian
  • Burmese
  • Chinese
  • Czech
  • Danish
  • Dutch
  • Fijian
  • Filipino
  • French
  • German
  • Greek
  • Hawaiian
  • Hebrew
  • Hindi
  • Hungarian
  • Igbo
  • Indonesian
  • Italian
  • Japanese
  • Javanese
  • Korean
  • Latin
  • Māori
  • Norwegian
  • Portuguese
  • Romanian
  • Russian
  • Sanskrit
  • Sinhalese
  • Somali
  • Tahitian
  • Thai
  • Tongan
  • Turkish
  • Urdu
  • Vietnamese
  • Wolof
  • Yoruba

References

See also

Resources