Like the Molave
by Rafael Zulueta Da Costa (1940)
Not yet, Rizal, not yet. Sleep not in peace:
There are a thousand waters to be spanned;
There are a thousand mountains to be crossed;
There are a thousand crosses to be borne.
Our shoulders are not strong; our sinews are grown flaccid
with dependence, smug with ease
under another's wing . Rest not in peace;
Not yet, Rizal, not yet.
The land has need of young blood-
And what younger than your own,
Forever spilled in the great name of freedom,
Forever oblate on the altar of the free?
Not you alone, Rizal.
O souls and spirits of the martyred brave, arise!
Arise and scour the land!
Shed once again your willing blood!
Infuse the vibrant red into our thin anemic veins;
Until we pick up your Promethean tools and, strong, Out of
the depthless matrix of your faith
In us, and on the silent cliffs of freedom,
We carve for all time your marmoreal dream!
Until our people, seeing, are become
Like the molave, firm, resilient, and staunch,
Rising on the hillside, unafraid,
Strong in its own fiber, yes, like the molave!
Not yet, Rizal, not yet.
The glory hour will come
Out of the silent dreaming
from the seven thousand fold silence
We shall emerge, saying WE ARE FILIPINOS!
and no longer be ashamed
Sleep not in peace
the dream is not yet fully carved
hard the wood but harder the woods
yet the molave will stand
yet the molave monument will rise
and gods walk on brown legs.
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