SA AKING MGA KABABATA
Unang Tula ni Rizal. Sa edad 8, isunulat ni Rizal ang una niyang tula ng isinulat sa katutubong wika at pinamagatang "SA AKING MGA KABATA"
KAPAGKA ANG BAYA'Y SADYANG UMIIBIG
SA KANYANG SALITANG KALOOB NG LANGIT,
SANLANG KALAYAAN NASA RING MASAPIT
KATULAD NG IBONG NASA HIMPAPAWID.
PAGKAT ANG SALITA'Y ISANG KAHATULAN
SA BAYAN,SA NAYO'T MGA KAHARIAN,
AT ANG ISANG TAO'Y KATULAD,KABAGAY
NG ALINMANG LIKHA NOONG KALAYAAN.
ANG HINDI MAGMAHAL SA KANYANG SALITA
MAHIGIT SA HAYOP AT MALANSANG ISDA,
KAYA ANG MARAPAT PAGYAMANING KUSA
NA TULAD NG INANG TUNAY NA NAGPALA.
ANG WIKANG TAGALOG,TULAD DIN SA LATIN,
SA INGLES,KASTILA'T SA SALITANG ANGHEL,
SAPAGKAT ANG POONG MAALAM TUMINGIN
ANG SIYANG NAGGAWAD,NAGBIGAY SA ATIN.
ANG SALITA NATI'Y TULAD DIN SA IBA
NA MAY ALPABETO AT SARILING LETRA,
NA KAYA NAWALA'Y DINATNAN NG SIGWA
ANG LUNDAY SA LAWA NOONG DAKONG UNA.
-Written when Rizal was 8 years old (1860) before he went to Binan to begin his formal schooling under Maestro Justiniano Cruz.
-Pointed out the nationalistic significance of the mother tongue in the life of our people. If a country really loves her God- given tongue, she will surely yearn for freedom like the birds in the firmament.
- At the early age of 16, Rizal was already aware of his Motherland and love of country was also awakened him.
- Inspired by the gains he had through education, the young Rizal envisioned what education can do to a country if its leadership would be made up of new breed of educated youth.
- Rizal hoped his countrymen to seek knowledge in order to live a life of enlightment which would make the country rise to the heights of honor and prestige.
- He pictured beautifully education as the foundation of knowledge which gives endless glory.
- Rizal urged his fellow students to educate themselves because wise education gives birth to science and art. As the hope of the Motherland, they could do a lot to improve not only their lives but also the social conditions in the Philippines.
- Reiterating the luster of wise education, Rizal ended his poem with a feeling of triumph. Comparing the wonderful gift of wise education to the Motherland with the gift of a golden sun to the world.
Unang Tula ni Rizal. Sa edad 8, isunulat ni Rizal ang una niyang tula ng isinulat sa katutubong wika at pinamagatang "SA AKING MGA KABATA"
KAPAGKA ANG BAYA'Y SADYANG UMIIBIG
SA KANYANG SALITANG KALOOB NG LANGIT,
SANLANG KALAYAAN NASA RING MASAPIT
KATULAD NG IBONG NASA HIMPAPAWID.
PAGKAT ANG SALITA'Y ISANG KAHATULAN
SA BAYAN,SA NAYO'T MGA KAHARIAN,
AT ANG ISANG TAO'Y KATULAD,KABAGAY
NG ALINMANG LIKHA NOONG KALAYAAN.
ANG HINDI MAGMAHAL SA KANYANG SALITA
MAHIGIT SA HAYOP AT MALANSANG ISDA,
KAYA ANG MARAPAT PAGYAMANING KUSA
NA TULAD NG INANG TUNAY NA NAGPALA.
ANG WIKANG TAGALOG,TULAD DIN SA LATIN,
SA INGLES,KASTILA'T SA SALITANG ANGHEL,
SAPAGKAT ANG POONG MAALAM TUMINGIN
ANG SIYANG NAGGAWAD,NAGBIGAY SA ATIN.
ANG SALITA NATI'Y TULAD DIN SA IBA
NA MAY ALPABETO AT SARILING LETRA,
NA KAYA NAWALA'Y DINATNAN NG SIGWA
ANG LUNDAY SA LAWA NOONG DAKONG UNA.
-Written when Rizal was 8 years old (1860) before he went to Binan to begin his formal schooling under Maestro Justiniano Cruz.
-Pointed out the nationalistic significance of the mother tongue in the life of our people. If a country really loves her God- given tongue, she will surely yearn for freedom like the birds in the firmament.
- At the early age of 16, Rizal was already aware of his Motherland and love of country was also awakened him.
- Inspired by the gains he had through education, the young Rizal envisioned what education can do to a country if its leadership would be made up of new breed of educated youth.
- Rizal hoped his countrymen to seek knowledge in order to live a life of enlightment which would make the country rise to the heights of honor and prestige.
- He pictured beautifully education as the foundation of knowledge which gives endless glory.
- Rizal urged his fellow students to educate themselves because wise education gives birth to science and art. As the hope of the Motherland, they could do a lot to improve not only their lives but also the social conditions in the Philippines.
- Reiterating the luster of wise education, Rizal ended his poem with a feeling of triumph. Comparing the wonderful gift of wise education to the Motherland with the gift of a golden sun to the world.
Education Gives Luster to Motherland
Wise education, vital breath
Inspires an enchanting virtue;
She puts the Country in the lofty seat
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,
And just as the gentle aura's puff
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:
So education with a wise, guiding hand,
A benefactress, exalts the human band.
Man's placid repose and earthly life
To education he dedicates
Because of her, art and science are born
Man; and as from the high mount above
The pure rivulet flows, undulates,
So education beyond measure
Gives the Country tranquility secure.
Where wise education raises a throne
Sprightly youth are invigorated,
Who with firm stand error they subdue
And with noble ideas are exalted;
It breaks immortality's neck,
Contemptible crime before it is halted:
It humbles barbarous nations
And it makes of savages champions.
And like the spring that nourishes
The plants, the bushes of the meads,
She goes on spilling her placid wealth,
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,
The river banks through which she slips,
And to beautiful nature all she concedes,
So whoever procures education wise
Until the height of honor may rise.
From her lips the waters crystalline
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,
And prudent doctrines of her faith
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Do learn with her noble example.
In the wretched human beings' breast
The living flame of good she lights
The hands of criminal fierce she ties,
And fill the faithful hearts with delights,
Which seeks her secrets beneficent
And in the love for the good her breast she incites,
And it's the education noble and pure
Of human life the balsam sure.
And like a rock that rises with pride
In the middle of the turbulent waves
When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
She disregards their fury and raves,
That weary of the horror great
So frightened calmly off they stave;
Such is one by wise education steered
He holds the Country's reins unconquered.
His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
The Country pays him a thousand honors;
For in the noble breasts of her sons
Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And in the love of good e'er disposed
Will see the lords and governors
The noble people with loyal venture
Christian education always procure.
And like the golden sun of the morn
Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
And like fair aurora of gold and red
She overspreads her colors bold;
Such true education proudly gives
The pleasure of virtue to young and old
And she enlightens out Motherland dear
As she offers endless glow and luster.
- The Liceo Artistico-Literario de manila, an association of arts lovers in manila regularly held literary contests to stimulate an develop literary talents.
- In 1879, it opened one for works in verse and prose with a special prize to Filipinos and half-breeds. Rizal participated in the contest by submitting a poem entitled, “ To The Filipino Youth”.
Wise education, vital breath
Inspires an enchanting virtue;
She puts the Country in the lofty seat
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,
And just as the gentle aura's puff
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:
So education with a wise, guiding hand,
A benefactress, exalts the human band.
Man's placid repose and earthly life
To education he dedicates
Because of her, art and science are born
Man; and as from the high mount above
The pure rivulet flows, undulates,
So education beyond measure
Gives the Country tranquility secure.
Where wise education raises a throne
Sprightly youth are invigorated,
Who with firm stand error they subdue
And with noble ideas are exalted;
It breaks immortality's neck,
Contemptible crime before it is halted:
It humbles barbarous nations
And it makes of savages champions.
And like the spring that nourishes
The plants, the bushes of the meads,
She goes on spilling her placid wealth,
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,
The river banks through which she slips,
And to beautiful nature all she concedes,
So whoever procures education wise
Until the height of honor may rise.
From her lips the waters crystalline
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,
And prudent doctrines of her faith
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Do learn with her noble example.
In the wretched human beings' breast
The living flame of good she lights
The hands of criminal fierce she ties,
And fill the faithful hearts with delights,
Which seeks her secrets beneficent
And in the love for the good her breast she incites,
And it's the education noble and pure
Of human life the balsam sure.
And like a rock that rises with pride
In the middle of the turbulent waves
When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
She disregards their fury and raves,
That weary of the horror great
So frightened calmly off they stave;
Such is one by wise education steered
He holds the Country's reins unconquered.
His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
The Country pays him a thousand honors;
For in the noble breasts of her sons
Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And in the love of good e'er disposed
Will see the lords and governors
The noble people with loyal venture
Christian education always procure.
And like the golden sun of the morn
Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
And like fair aurora of gold and red
She overspreads her colors bold;
Such true education proudly gives
The pleasure of virtue to young and old
And she enlightens out Motherland dear
As she offers endless glow and luster.
- The Liceo Artistico-Literario de manila, an association of arts lovers in manila regularly held literary contests to stimulate an develop literary talents.
- In 1879, it opened one for works in verse and prose with a special prize to Filipinos and half-breeds. Rizal participated in the contest by submitting a poem entitled, “ To The Filipino Youth”.
To The Filipino Youth
Raise your unruffled brow
On this day, Filipino youth!
Resplendent shines
Your courage rich,
Handsome hope of my motherland!
Fly, grand genius
And infuse them with noble sentiment
That vigorously rushes,
More rapid than the wind,
Its virgin mind to the glorious goal.
Descend to the arena
With the pleasant light of arts and sciences,
And unbind, Youth,
The heavy chain
That fetters your poetic genius.
See that in the bright zone
With pious and learned hand,
Offers the son of this native land
Resplendent crown.
You who ascend
On wings of your rich fantasy,
Seeking from Olympus in the clouds
Tenderest poetry,
Sweeter than nectar and ambrosia;
You of the celestial accent,
Melodious rival of the nightingale,
Who with varied melodies
Dissipate the mortal’s bitter pain
In the night serene;
You who animate the hand rock
With the impulse of your mind,
And with prepotent hand makes eternal
The pure memory
Of the refulgent genius;
And you, who with magic brushes
Are wont to transfer to simple canvas
The varied enchantment of Phoebus, beloved of
Apollo divine,
And the mantle of nature.
Run! For the sacred flame
Of the genius awaits to be crowned with laurels,
Sprading fame
With trumpet proclaiming
O’er the wide sphere the mortal’s name.
Day, oh happy day,
Philippines genteel, for your soil!
Bless the Almighty,
Who with loving desire
Sends you fortune and consolation.
Raise your unruffled brow
On this day, Filipino youth!
Resplendent shines
Your courage rich,
Handsome hope of my motherland!
Fly, grand genius
And infuse them with noble sentiment
That vigorously rushes,
More rapid than the wind,
Its virgin mind to the glorious goal.
Descend to the arena
With the pleasant light of arts and sciences,
And unbind, Youth,
The heavy chain
That fetters your poetic genius.
See that in the bright zone
With pious and learned hand,
Offers the son of this native land
Resplendent crown.
You who ascend
On wings of your rich fantasy,
Seeking from Olympus in the clouds
Tenderest poetry,
Sweeter than nectar and ambrosia;
You of the celestial accent,
Melodious rival of the nightingale,
Who with varied melodies
Dissipate the mortal’s bitter pain
In the night serene;
You who animate the hand rock
With the impulse of your mind,
And with prepotent hand makes eternal
The pure memory
Of the refulgent genius;
And you, who with magic brushes
Are wont to transfer to simple canvas
The varied enchantment of Phoebus, beloved of
Apollo divine,
And the mantle of nature.
Run! For the sacred flame
Of the genius awaits to be crowned with laurels,
Sprading fame
With trumpet proclaiming
O’er the wide sphere the mortal’s name.
Day, oh happy day,
Philippines genteel, for your soil!
Bless the Almighty,
Who with loving desire
Sends you fortune and consolation.
My Retreat
-During his four- years exile in Dapitan, Rizal wrote “ My Retreat” at the request of his mother who was eager to know how he lived there.
-It is a sentimental, touching and exquisite poem describing his home and life in lonely Dapitan.
-The imagery and melody of the poem displayed Rizal’s descriptive power.
-Here, he betrays no resentment against his unjust exile for he believed that the day would come when o’er brutal force idea would prevail.
My Retreat 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.
‘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.
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.
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.
-During his four- years exile in Dapitan, Rizal wrote “ My Retreat” at the request of his mother who was eager to know how he lived there.
-It is a sentimental, touching and exquisite poem describing his home and life in lonely Dapitan.
-The imagery and melody of the poem displayed Rizal’s descriptive power.
-Here, he betrays no resentment against his unjust exile for he believed that the day would come when o’er brutal force idea would prevail.
My Retreat 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.
‘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.
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.
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.
This is a Tagalog translation by Andres Bonifacio of the poem Mi Último Adios (My Last Farewell) originally written in Spanish by Filipino national hero Jose Rizal.
Salin ito ng huling sinulat ni Rizal nguni’t walang pamagat. Sinulat niya ito sa Fort Santiago, isinilid sa kusinilyang dealkohol, at ibinigay sa kapatid na si Trinidad nang huling dumalaw sa kaniya bago siya (Rizal) barilin.
Ang tulang kilala ngayon sa pamagat na “Ultimo Adios” o “Huling Paalam” ang likhang-guro o obra maestra ni Rizal. Ang orihinal sa kastila ay isinalin na sa mga pangunahing wika sa daigdig, tulad ng Ingles, Prances, Aleman, Italyano, Nippongo, Malyo, at marami pang iba, gayon din sa iba’t ibang wikain sa Pilipinas, tulad ng Tagalog , Ilokano, kapampangan, Pangasinan, Bikol, Sugbuhanion, Hiligaynon, at iba pa.
Maraming nagsalin ng tula sa Tagalog, nguni’t ang pinakakaraniwang bigkasin at siyang matatagpuan sa Luneta ay ang salin ni Jose Gatmaytan na matutunghayan dito. Ang kahuli-hulihang tulang ito ni Rizal ay tigib ng kalungkutan pagka’t maiiwan na niya ang kaniyang mga minamahal sa buhay at mawawalay na siya sa kaniyang bayan. Sa harap ng kamatayan, wala siyang hiniling para sa sarili; ang lahat ay para sa kapakanan ng kaniyang mga kababayan at ng kaniyang bayan.
HULING PAALAM
Pinipintuho kong Bayan ay paalam,
Lupang iniirog ng sikat ng araw,
mutyang mahalaga sa dagat Silangan,
kaluwalhatiang sa ami'y pumanaw.
Masayang sa iyo'y aking idudulot
ang lanta kong buhay na lubhang malungkot;
maging maringal man at labis ang alindog
sa kagalingan mo ay akin ding handog.
Sa pakikidigma at pamimiyapis
ang alay ng iba'y ang buhay na kipkip,
walang agam-agam, maluwag sa dibdib,
matamis sa puso at di ikahahapis.
Saan man mautas ay di kailangan,
cipres o laurel, lirio ma'y patungan
pakikipaghamok, at ang bibitayan,
yaon ay gayon din kung hiling ng Bayan.
Ako'y mamamatay, ngayong namamalas
na sa Silanganan ay namamanaag
yaong maligayang araw na sisikat
sa likod ng luksang nagtabing na ulap.
Ang kulay na pula kung kinakailangan
na maitina sa iyong liwayway,
dugo ko'y isaboy at siyang ikikinang
ng kislap ng iyong maningning na ilaw.
Ang aking adhika sapul magkaisip
noong kasalukuyang bata pang maliit,
ay ang tanghaling ka at minsang masilip
sa dagat Silangan hiyas na marikit.
Natuyo ang luhang sa mata'y nunukal,
taas na ang noo't walang kapootan,
walang bakas kunot ng kapighatian
gabahid man dungis niyong kahihiyan.
Sa kabuhayan ko ang laging gunita
maningas na aking ninanasa-nasa
ay guminhawa ka ang hiyas ng diwa
paghingang papanaw ngayong biglang-bigla.
Ikaw'y guminhawa laking kagandahang
akoy malugmok, at ikaw ay matanghal,
hininga'y malagot, mabuhay ka lamang
bangkay ko'y maisilong sa iyong Kalangitan.
Kung sa libingan ko'y tumubong mamalas
sa malagong damo mahinhing bulaklak,
sa mga labi mo'y mangyayaring ilapat,
sa kaluluwa ko halik ay igawad.
At sa aking noo nawa'y iparamdam,
sa lamig ng lupa ng aking libingan,
ang init ng iyong paghingang dalisay
at simoy ng iyong paggiliw na tunay.
Bayaang ang buwan sa aki'y ititig
ang liwanag niyang lamlam at tahimik,
liwayway bayaang sa aki'y ihatid
magalaw na sinag at hanging hagibis.
Kung sakasakaling bumabang humantong
sa krus ko'y dumapo kahit isang ibon,
doon ay bayaan humuning hinahon
at dalitin niya payapang panahon.
Bayaan ang ningas ng sikat ng araw
ula'y pasingawin noong kainitan,
magbalik sa langit ng buong dalisay
kalakip ng aking pagdaing na hiyaw.
Bayaang sino man sa katotong giliw
tangisang maagang sa buhay pagkitil;
kung tungkol sa akin ay may manalangin
idalangin, Bayan, yaring pagkahimbing.
Idalanging lahat yaong nangamatay,
Nangag-tiis hirap na walang kapantay;
mga ina naming walang kapalaran
na inihihibik ay kapighatian.
Ang mga balo't pinapangulila,
ang mga bilanggong nagsisipagdusa;
dalanginin namang kanilang makita
ang kalayaan mong ikagiginhawa.
At kung ang madilim na gabing mapanglaw
ay lumaganap na doon sa libinga't
tanging mga patay ang nangaglalamay,
huwag bagabagin ang katahimikan.
Ang kanyang hiwaga’y huwag gambalain;
kaipala'y marinig doon ang taginting,
tunog ng gitara't salterio'y magsaliw,
ako, Bayan yao't kita'y aawitan.
Kung ang libingan ko'y limot na ng lahat
at wala ng kurus at batong mabakas,
bayaang linangin ng taong masipag,
lupa'y asarolin at kahuya’y ikalat.
Ang mga buto ko ay bago matunaw,
mauwi sa wala at kusang maparam,
alabok na iyong latag ay bayaang
siya ang babalang doo'y makipisan.
Kung magkagayon ma'y, alintanahin
na ako sa limot iyong ihabilin,
pagka't himpapawid at ang panganorin,
mga lansangan mo'y aking lilibutin.
Matining na tunog ako sa dinig mo,
ilaw, mga kulay, masamyong pabango,
ang ugong at awit, paghibik ko sa iyo,
pag-asang dalisay ng pananalig ko.
Bayang iniirog, sakit niyaring hirap,
Katagalugan kong pinakaliliyag,
dinggin mo ang aking pagpapahimakas;
diya'y iiwan ko sa iyo ang lahat.
Ako'y patutungo sa walang busabos,
walang umiinis at berdugong hayop;
pananalig doo'y di nakasasalot,
si Bathala lamang doo’y haring lubos.
Paalam, magulang at mga kapatid
kapilas ng aking kaluluwa't dibdib
mga kaibigan, bata pang maliit,
sa aking tahanan di na masisilip.
Pag-papasalamat at napahinga rin,
paalam estranherang kasuyo ko't aliw,
paalam sa inyo, mga ginigiliw;
mamatay ay siyang pagkakagupiling!
Salin ito ng huling sinulat ni Rizal nguni’t walang pamagat. Sinulat niya ito sa Fort Santiago, isinilid sa kusinilyang dealkohol, at ibinigay sa kapatid na si Trinidad nang huling dumalaw sa kaniya bago siya (Rizal) barilin.
Ang tulang kilala ngayon sa pamagat na “Ultimo Adios” o “Huling Paalam” ang likhang-guro o obra maestra ni Rizal. Ang orihinal sa kastila ay isinalin na sa mga pangunahing wika sa daigdig, tulad ng Ingles, Prances, Aleman, Italyano, Nippongo, Malyo, at marami pang iba, gayon din sa iba’t ibang wikain sa Pilipinas, tulad ng Tagalog , Ilokano, kapampangan, Pangasinan, Bikol, Sugbuhanion, Hiligaynon, at iba pa.
Maraming nagsalin ng tula sa Tagalog, nguni’t ang pinakakaraniwang bigkasin at siyang matatagpuan sa Luneta ay ang salin ni Jose Gatmaytan na matutunghayan dito. Ang kahuli-hulihang tulang ito ni Rizal ay tigib ng kalungkutan pagka’t maiiwan na niya ang kaniyang mga minamahal sa buhay at mawawalay na siya sa kaniyang bayan. Sa harap ng kamatayan, wala siyang hiniling para sa sarili; ang lahat ay para sa kapakanan ng kaniyang mga kababayan at ng kaniyang bayan.
HULING PAALAM
Pinipintuho kong Bayan ay paalam,
Lupang iniirog ng sikat ng araw,
mutyang mahalaga sa dagat Silangan,
kaluwalhatiang sa ami'y pumanaw.
Masayang sa iyo'y aking idudulot
ang lanta kong buhay na lubhang malungkot;
maging maringal man at labis ang alindog
sa kagalingan mo ay akin ding handog.
Sa pakikidigma at pamimiyapis
ang alay ng iba'y ang buhay na kipkip,
walang agam-agam, maluwag sa dibdib,
matamis sa puso at di ikahahapis.
Saan man mautas ay di kailangan,
cipres o laurel, lirio ma'y patungan
pakikipaghamok, at ang bibitayan,
yaon ay gayon din kung hiling ng Bayan.
Ako'y mamamatay, ngayong namamalas
na sa Silanganan ay namamanaag
yaong maligayang araw na sisikat
sa likod ng luksang nagtabing na ulap.
Ang kulay na pula kung kinakailangan
na maitina sa iyong liwayway,
dugo ko'y isaboy at siyang ikikinang
ng kislap ng iyong maningning na ilaw.
Ang aking adhika sapul magkaisip
noong kasalukuyang bata pang maliit,
ay ang tanghaling ka at minsang masilip
sa dagat Silangan hiyas na marikit.
Natuyo ang luhang sa mata'y nunukal,
taas na ang noo't walang kapootan,
walang bakas kunot ng kapighatian
gabahid man dungis niyong kahihiyan.
Sa kabuhayan ko ang laging gunita
maningas na aking ninanasa-nasa
ay guminhawa ka ang hiyas ng diwa
paghingang papanaw ngayong biglang-bigla.
Ikaw'y guminhawa laking kagandahang
akoy malugmok, at ikaw ay matanghal,
hininga'y malagot, mabuhay ka lamang
bangkay ko'y maisilong sa iyong Kalangitan.
Kung sa libingan ko'y tumubong mamalas
sa malagong damo mahinhing bulaklak,
sa mga labi mo'y mangyayaring ilapat,
sa kaluluwa ko halik ay igawad.
At sa aking noo nawa'y iparamdam,
sa lamig ng lupa ng aking libingan,
ang init ng iyong paghingang dalisay
at simoy ng iyong paggiliw na tunay.
Bayaang ang buwan sa aki'y ititig
ang liwanag niyang lamlam at tahimik,
liwayway bayaang sa aki'y ihatid
magalaw na sinag at hanging hagibis.
Kung sakasakaling bumabang humantong
sa krus ko'y dumapo kahit isang ibon,
doon ay bayaan humuning hinahon
at dalitin niya payapang panahon.
Bayaan ang ningas ng sikat ng araw
ula'y pasingawin noong kainitan,
magbalik sa langit ng buong dalisay
kalakip ng aking pagdaing na hiyaw.
Bayaang sino man sa katotong giliw
tangisang maagang sa buhay pagkitil;
kung tungkol sa akin ay may manalangin
idalangin, Bayan, yaring pagkahimbing.
Idalanging lahat yaong nangamatay,
Nangag-tiis hirap na walang kapantay;
mga ina naming walang kapalaran
na inihihibik ay kapighatian.
Ang mga balo't pinapangulila,
ang mga bilanggong nagsisipagdusa;
dalanginin namang kanilang makita
ang kalayaan mong ikagiginhawa.
At kung ang madilim na gabing mapanglaw
ay lumaganap na doon sa libinga't
tanging mga patay ang nangaglalamay,
huwag bagabagin ang katahimikan.
Ang kanyang hiwaga’y huwag gambalain;
kaipala'y marinig doon ang taginting,
tunog ng gitara't salterio'y magsaliw,
ako, Bayan yao't kita'y aawitan.
Kung ang libingan ko'y limot na ng lahat
at wala ng kurus at batong mabakas,
bayaang linangin ng taong masipag,
lupa'y asarolin at kahuya’y ikalat.
Ang mga buto ko ay bago matunaw,
mauwi sa wala at kusang maparam,
alabok na iyong latag ay bayaang
siya ang babalang doo'y makipisan.
Kung magkagayon ma'y, alintanahin
na ako sa limot iyong ihabilin,
pagka't himpapawid at ang panganorin,
mga lansangan mo'y aking lilibutin.
Matining na tunog ako sa dinig mo,
ilaw, mga kulay, masamyong pabango,
ang ugong at awit, paghibik ko sa iyo,
pag-asang dalisay ng pananalig ko.
Bayang iniirog, sakit niyaring hirap,
Katagalugan kong pinakaliliyag,
dinggin mo ang aking pagpapahimakas;
diya'y iiwan ko sa iyo ang lahat.
Ako'y patutungo sa walang busabos,
walang umiinis at berdugong hayop;
pananalig doo'y di nakasasalot,
si Bathala lamang doo’y haring lubos.
Paalam, magulang at mga kapatid
kapilas ng aking kaluluwa't dibdib
mga kaibigan, bata pang maliit,
sa aking tahanan di na masisilip.
Pag-papasalamat at napahinga rin,
paalam estranherang kasuyo ko't aliw,
paalam sa inyo, mga ginigiliw;
mamatay ay siyang pagkakagupiling!