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irish17

Member Since 11 Jun 2010
Offline Last Active Jan 02 2018 01:19 AM
Almost is never enough Updated 02 Nov · 0 comments

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  • Group Rookies
  • Active Posts 2
  • Profile Views 3996
  • Member Title SoshiHoney
  • Age 27 years old
  • Birthday April 21, 1992
  • Gender
    Female Female
  • Location
    Philippines
  • Interests
    reading books, watching movie,

    "Ang hindi magmahal sa sariling wika, daig pa ang hayop at malansang isda."

    "He who does not love his own language is worse than an animal and smelly fish."

    "It is a useless life that is not consecrated to a great ideal. It is like a stone wasted on the field without becoming a part of any edifice."

    "While a people preserves its language; it preserves the marks of liberty."

    "There can be no tyrants where there are no slaves."

    "Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinangalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan."

    "He who does not know how to look back at where he came from will never get to his destination."

    "The youth is the hope of our future."
    Mi Ultimo Adios (My Last Farewell)
    By: Jose Rizal
    Farewell, dear Fatherland, clime of the sun caress'd
    Pearl of the Orient seas, our Eden lost!,
    Gladly now I go to give thee this faded life's best,
    And were it brighter, fresher, or more blest
    Still would I give it thee, nor count the cost.

    On the field of battle, 'mid the frenzy of fight,
    Others have given their lives, without doubt or heed;
    The place matters not-cypress or laurel or lily white,
    Scaffold or open plain, combat or martyrdom's plight,
    T is ever the same, to serve our home and country's need.

    I die just when I see the dawn break,
    Through the gloom of night, to herald the day;
    And if color is lacking my blood thou shalt take,
    Pour'd out at need for thy dear sake
    To dye with its crimson the waking ray.

    My dreams, when life first opened to me,
    My dreams, when the hopes of youth beat high,
    Were to see thy lov'd face, O gem of the Orient sea
    From gloom and grief, from care and sorrow free;
    No blush on thy brow, no tear in thine eye.

    Dream of my life, my living and burning desire,
    All hail ! cries the soul that is now to take flight;
    All hail ! And sweet it is for thee to expire ;
    To die for thy sake, that thou mayst aspire;
    And sleep in thy bosom eternity's long night.

    If over my grave some day thou seest grow,
    In the grassy sod, a humble flower,
    Draw it to thy lips and kiss my soul so,
    While I may feel on my brow in the cold tomb below
    The touch of thy tenderness, thy breath's warm power.

    Let the moon beam over me soft and serene,
    Let the dawn shed over me its radiant flashes,
    Let the wind with sad lament over me keen ;
    And if on my cross a bird should be seen,
    Let it trill there its hymn of peace to my ashes.


    Let the sun draw the vapors up to the sky,
    And heavenward in purity bear my tardy protest
    Let some kind soul o 'er my untimely fate sigh,
    And in the still evening a prayer be lifted on high
    From thee, 0 my country, that in God I may rest.

    Pray for all those that hapless have died,
    For all who have suffered the unmeasur'd pain;
    For our mothers that bitterly their woes have cried,
    For widows and orphans, for captives by torture tried
    And then for thyself that redemption thou mayst gain.

    And when the dark night wraps the graveyard around
    With only the dead in their vigil to see
    Break not my repose or the mystery profound
    And perchance thou mayst hear a sad hymn resound
    'T is I, O my country, raising a song unto thee.

    And even my grave is remembered no more
    Unmark'd by never a cross nor a stone
    Let the plow sweep through it, the spade turn it o'er
    That my ashes may carpet earthly floor,
    Before into nothingness at last they are blown.

    Then will oblivion bring to me no care
    As over thy vales and plains I sweep;
    Throbbing and cleansed in thy space and air
    With color and light, with song and lament I fare,
    Ever repeating the faith that I keep.

    My Fatherland ador'd, that sadness to my sorrow lends
    Beloved Filipinas, hear now my last good-by!
    I give thee all: parents and kindred and friends
    For I go where no slave before the oppressor bends,
    Where faith can never kill, and God reigns e'er on high!

    Farewell to you all, from my soul torn away,
    Friends of my childhood in the home dispossessed !
    Give thanks that I rest from the wearisome day !
    Farewell to thee, too, sweet friend that lightened my way;
    Beloved creatures all, farewell! In death there is rest!

    Mi último adiós

    ¡Adiós, Patria adorada, región del sol querida,
    Perla del mar de oriente, nuestro perdido Edén!
    A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
    Y fuera más brillante, más fresca, más 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 lóbrego capuz;
    si grana necesitas para teñir tu aurora,
    Vierte la sangre mía, derrámala en buen hora
    Y dórela un reflejo de su naciente luz.

    Mis sueños cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,
    Mis sueños cuando joven ya lleno de vigor,
    Fueron el verte un día, 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 día
    Entre la espesa yerba sencilla, humilde flor,
    Acércala a tus labios y besa al alma mía,
    Y sienta yo en mi frente bajo la tumba fría,
    De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

    Deja a la luna verme con luz tranquila y suave,
    Deja que el alba envíe su resplandor fugaz,
    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 mí 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 huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura
    Y ora por ti que veas tu redención final.

    Y cuando en noche oscura se envuelva el cementerio
    Y solos sólo muertos queden velando allí,
    No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio,
    Tal vez acordes oigas de cítara o salterio,
    Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a ti.

    Y cuando ya mi tumba de todos 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 seré para tu oído,
    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 adiós.
    Ahí 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.

    Adiós, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,
    Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,
    Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;
    Adiós, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría,
    Adiós, queridos seres, morir es descansar.

    "True Friends are like diamond precious but rare; False friend are like autumn leaves found everywere"
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