Tanggapin mo anak, itong munting guryon
Na yari sa patpat at “papel de Hapon”
Magandang laruan pula, puti, asul
Na may panagalan mong sa gitna naroon.
Ang hiling ko lamang, bago paliparin,
Ang guryon mong ito ay pakatimbangin;
Ang solo’t paulo’y sukating magaling
Nang hindi mag-ikit o kaya’y magkiling.
Saka, pag umihip ang hangin, ilabas
At sa papawiri’y bayaang lumipad;
Datapwa’t ang pisi’y tibayan mo, anak,
At baka lagutin ng hanging malakas.
Ibigin ma’t hindi, balang araw, ikaw
Ay mapapabuyong makipagdagitan;
Makipaglaban ka, subalit tandaan
Na ang nagwawagi’y ang pusong marangal.
At kung ang guryon mo’y sakaling madaig
Matangay ng iba o kaya’y mapatid;
Kung saka-sakaling dina mapabalik
Maawaing kamay nawa ang magkamit!
Ang buhay ay guryon: marupok, malikot,
Dagiti’y dumagit saan man sumuot…
O, piliparinmo’t ihalik sa Diyos,
Bago patuluyang sa lupa:’y sumubsob!
Kung ibig mo akong makilala,
lampasan mo ang guhit ng mahugis na balat,
ang titig kong dagat–
yumayapos nang mahigpit sa bawat saglit
ng kahapon ko’t bukas.
Kung ibig mo akong makilala
sunduin mo ako sa himlayang dilim
at sa madlang pagsukol ng inunang hilahil,
ibangon ako at saka palayain.
Isang pag-ibig na lipos ng lingap,
tahanang malaya sa pangamba at sumbat
may suhay ng tuwa’t ang kaluwalhati’y
walang takda–ialay mo lahat ito sa akin
kung mahal mo ako’t ibig kilalanin.
Kung ibig mo akong kilalanin,
sisirin mo ako hanggang buto,
liparin mo ako hanggang utak,
umilanlang ka hanggang kaluluwa–
hubad ako roon: mula ulo hanggang paa.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!
This poem never fails to inspire me. Get me on my feet when I don’t feel like walking. Put me in place when I forget myself. Amazing, to simply put it.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
My favorite Shakespearean Sonnet. Makes me all fluff all the time. 🙂