On El Canto de Maria Clara (or Canto Patriotico de Maria Clara) by Jose Rizal
[A repost from four years ago] This music track is a rendition of Jose Rizal’s poem by the Filipino indie band The Camerawalls (formed by the singer-guitarist Clementine, who by the way was the songwriter behind the band Orange and Lemons). The lyrics of the song comes from a very sad poem sung by Rizal’s character, Maria Clara, in the novel Noli Me Tangere, Chapter 23.
The song goes like this:
Dulces las horas en la propia patria
Donde es amigo cuanto alumbra el sol,
Vida es la brisa que en sus campos vuela,
Grata la muerte y más 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 sonríense 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![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 underneath the sun
Death is the breeze for him who has not
Any country, mother, or one true Love!]What is strange about the poem is the sad ending at the last stanza, of love and death–”Sweet is death…”
In the novel, Maria Clara chose to sing the song while her family and some relatives were waiting for a catch of fish beside a fish trap. Noli Me Tangere reiterates the reaction of the crowd after Maria Clara sang the song:
“The voice died away, the song finished, the harp was mute, yet still they listened and no one clapped. The girls felt their eyes fill up with tears. Ibarra seemed vexed. The impassive streetsman kept his eyes in the distance.
And then…
Suddenly a thunderous noise was heard. The women screamed and stopped their ears. It was Albino, the ex-seminarian, who with all the strength of his lungs had blown a blast on the carabao horn trumpet. Laughter and liveliness returned and the eyes, which had filled with tears, turned playful once again.”
It was as if the oppression, the abuse, the heavy yoke of Spanish subjugation never happened. It was all dismissed with laughter. A fitting Filipino reaction of denial that Rizal perfectly captured in his novel.
Sad isn’t it?
Every time you listen to the song, or if ever you read this part of the Noli novel (which have been rendered into song by many Filipino musicians), care for a minute to stop and think of this poem and remember… we haven’t changed even after a century.
*The excerpts came from Leon Ma. Guerrero’s excellent translation of Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere.
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