There let the laborer guide his plow, there cleave the earth open.
So shall my ashes at last be one with thy hills and thy valleys.
Little ’t will matter, then, my country, that thou shouldst forget me!
I shall be air in thy streets, and I shall be space in thy meadows;
I shall be vibrant speech in thine ears, shall be fragrance and color,
Light and shout, and loved song, for ever repeating my message.
Idolized fatherland, thou crown and deep of my sorrows,
Lovely Philippine Isles, once again adieu! I am leaving
All with thee—my friends, my love. Where I go are no tyrants;
There one dies not for the cause of his faith; there God is the ruler.