Rizal’s Poem

Our Mother Tongue

A poem originally in Tagalog written by Rizal when he
was only eight years old

IF truly a people dearly love
The tongue to them by Heaven sent,
They’ll surely yearn for liberty
Like a bird above in the firmament.

BECAUSE by its language one can judge
A town, a barrio, and kingdom;
And like any other created thing
Every human being loves his freedom.

ONE who doesn’t love his native tongue,
Is worse than putrid fish and beast;

AND like a truly precious thing
It therefore deserves to be cherished.

THE Tagalog language’s akin to Latin,
To English, Spanish, angelical tongue;
For God who knows how to look after us
This language He bestowed us upon.
AS others, our language is the same
With alphabet and letters of its own,
It was lost because a storm did destroy
On the lake the bangka in years bygone.

A Poem that has no title

To my Creator I sing
Who did soothe me in my great loss;
To the Merciful and Kind
Who in my troubles gave me repose.

Thou with that pow’r of thine
Said: Live! And with life myself I found;
And shelter gave me thou
And a soul impelled to the good
Like a compass whose point to the North is bound.

Thou did make me descend
From honorable home and respectable stock,
And a homeland thou gavest me
Without limit, fair and rich
Though fortune and prudence it does lack.

Song Of Maria Clara

A poem, found in Rizal’s book Noli me tangere, sung by
Maria Clara, which accounts for the title

Sweet are the hours in one’s own Native Land,
All there is friendly o’er which the sun shines above;
Vivifying is the breeze that wafts over her fields;
Even death is gratifying and more tender is love.

Ardent kissed on a mother’s lips are at play,
On her lap, upon the infant child’s awakening,
The extended arms do seek her neck to entwine,
And the eyes at each other’s glimpse are smiling.

It is sweet to die in one’s own Native Land,
All there is friendly o’er which the sun shines above;
And deathly is the breeze for one without
A country, without a mother and without love.