The Song of the Traveller - Jose Rizal

What a beautiful poem, especially for V.

The Song of the Traveler

-Jose Rizal

Like to a leaf that is fallen and withered,

Tossed by the tempest from pole unto pole ;

Thus roams the pilgrim abroad without purpose,

Roams without love, without country or soul.

Following anxiously treacherous fortune,

Fortune which e 'en as he grasps at it flees ;

Vain though the hopes that his yearning is seeking,

Yet does the pilgrim embark on the seas !

Ever impelled by the invisible power,

Destined to roam from the East to the West ;

Oft he remembers the faces of loved ones,

Dreams of the day when he, too, was at rest.

Chance may assign him a tomb on the desert,

Grant him a final asylum of peace ;

Soon by the world and his country forgotten,

God rest his soul when his wanderings cease !

Often the sorrowing pilgrim is envied,

Circling the globe like a sea-gull above ;

Little, ah, little they know what a void

Saddens his soul by the absence of love.

Home may the pilgrim return in the future,

Back to his loved ones his footsteps he bends ;

Naught wìll he find but the snow and the ruins,

Ashes of love and the tomb of his friends,

Pilgrim, begone ! Nor return more hereafter,

Stranger thou art in the land of thy birth ;

Others may sing of their love while rejoicing,

Thou once again must roam o'er the earth.

Pilgrim, begone ! Nor return more hereafter,

Dry are the tears that a while for thee ran ;

Pilgrim, begone ! And forget thine affliction,

Loud laughs the world at the sorrows of man.

Translated by Arthur P.Ferguson