My rough Tagalog translation of Jose Rizal’s “Song of Maria Clara,” inspired by my inability to recall Bienvenido Lumbera’s translation (“Matimyas mabuhay sa sariling bayan, mapagmahal dito ang sikat ng araw.”) in his libretto for Ryan Cayabyab’s Noli musical as well as my inability to get a copy of Rio Alma’s:
Ang Awit ni Maria Clara
Matimyas mabuhay sa tinubuang bayan
Kung saan kaibigan ang lahat sa ilalim ng araw
Buhay ang hanging umiihip sa kanyang bukirin
Kamataya’y di saklot ng hinagpis at higit na malambing ang pag-ibig.
Malalamyos na halik ang naglalaro sa mga labi ng isang ina sa paggising
Ng sanggol sa kanyang dibdib, habang inaapuhap naman ng mga bisig
Ng sanggol ang leeg ng ina upang doon ito mangunyapit;
At sa pagtatama ng mapagmahal na pagtingin, sumisilay sa mga mata ang ngiti.
Matimyas mamatay para sa tinubuang bayan
Kung saan kaibigan ang lahat sa ilalim ng araw
Kamatayan ang ihip ng hangin sa kanyang kawawang
Walang bayan, walang ina, walang pagmamahal.
December 30, 2007
Rizal Day
Angono, Rizal
El Canto de Maria Clara
(por Dr. Jose Rizal)
¡Dulces las horas en la propia patria
Donde es amigo alumbra el sol;
Vida es la brisa que en sus campos vuela,
Grata la muerte y mas tierno el amor!
Ardientes besos en los labios juegan,
De una madre en el seno al despertar;
Buscan los brazos a ceñir el cuello,
Y los ojos sonriense al mirar.
Dulce es la muerte por la propia patria,
Donde es amigo cuanto alumbra el sol;
Muerte es la brisa para quien no tiene
Una patria, una madre y un amor.
English translation by Charles Derbyshire:
Sweet are the hours in one’s native land,
Where all is dear the sunbeams bless;
Life-giving breezes sweep the strand,
And death is softened by love’s caress.
Warm kisses play on mother’s lips,
On her fond, tender breast awakening;
When round her neck the soft arm slips,
And bright eyes smile, all love partaking.
Sweet is death for one’s native land,
Where all is dear the sunbeams bless;
Death is the breeze that sweeps the strand
Without a mother, home, or love’s caress.
English translation by Leon Ma. Guerrero:
Sweet are the hours in one’s own country
Where all is friendly underneath the sun,
Sweet are the breezes from native ricefields,
Death less bitter, and love more sweetly won!
It is sweet there for the babe to waken
In his mother’s bosom; without guile
To seek her kisses and embrace her
While their eyes meet in a smile.
Sweet is death for one’s own country
Where all is dear near the sun above,
Bitter the wind for those who have not
Country, mother, and one true Love!
English translation by Ma. Soledad Lacson-Locsin (with two additional stanzas found in the original manuscript, but probably crossed out in the proofs/galleys):
Sweet are the hours in one’s own land
Where all is loved under the sun,
Life is the breeze in her fields sweeping,
Death is welcome, and love more caring!
Do you have a country, do you?
Because I weep so,
Do not ask about my country
Not of me!
Warm kisses on the lips play,
From a mother’s breast awaking,
The arms search, round her neck to cling,
And the eyes smile as they gaze.
Do you have a mother, do you?
Because I weep so,
Do not ask about my mother
Not of me!
Sweet is death for one’s own land
Where all is loved under the sun;
Dead is the breeze for him who has not
A country, a mother and a love!
Tags: Love, Mother, Native Land, Patriotism