Tag Archives: filipino

Where is My May?


by Fernando Ma. Guerrero

My happy days have passed away.
The hills and woods have lost their flower.
Where is my May?
Where are its sweet and charming hours?
Cheer me, my star, and give me light,
To see at least a pleasant way,
Show me your eyes so fair and bright
To find my way.
With thoughts of care I bend my head,
Where is my May?
I am alone, I eat my bread
Away from you, so far away.

Philippine National Anthem


written by Jose Palma

Land of the morning
Child of the sun returning
With fervor burning
Thee do our souls adore.

Land dear and holy
Cradle of noble heroes,
Ne’er shall invaders
Trample thy sacred shore.

Ever within thy skies and through thy clouds
And o’er the hills and seas
Do we behold the radiance, feel the throb, of glorious liberty.

Thy banner dear to all our hearts
Its sun and stars alight -
Oh, never shall its shining filled
Be dimmed by tyrant’s might!

Beautiful and land of love, O land of light,
In thine embrace ’tis rapture to lie,
But it is glory ever, when thou art wronged,
For us thy sons, to suffer and die.

The Tree


The Tree
G. Burce Bunao

The tree was very beautiful to me
When I was a boy,
I climbed for fruit or out of a branch of the tree
Made me a toy -
A top, for instance, that spun around, carefree
And wound for joy
Until it toppled over and was dead.
No longer the boy,
I find the tree as beautiful though not
Just for a branch
Or a bunch of fruit by – more than that – for a bend
Or a fence the branch
In which I raise the beasts that fill the pot
In the many shapes
My simple commerce turns them to, like bread
Or fish or grapes,
To feed the brood, the little woman and me
There go the boys,
Go watch them strong of limb, spread up the tree,
They pluck their toys
Out of its branches, as out of my childhood tree
I shaped my toys.

Silent Trails


Silent Trails
Marcelo de Gracia Concepcion

Silent Trails
Silent are the trails of Benguet hills,
When the mist veils the sun -
Even the wind stirs the ferns
And the bamboo brakes sing
Their echoey murmurs.

And the laden Benguet women pass,
Beating their pakkongs*
In cadenced monotones.

Even so,
These trails are lonely
And deep are the ravines.
And higher still the skies.

* A bamboo percussion instrument used by the Benguets to accompany their chants.

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