I love being a Filipino

Camerado, ecstatic, singing for the rice;

While the strong offering of the neighboring lights

Kindled to their benediction listening words.

Impulsive reverent of that Whisper they thought

Were mingled in their shadows in their modest air.

Sometimes through the dim Floridian everglades,

Scattering flowers like red leaves upon a cloud,

Resting under foot the grass amid the moonlight,

Singing the forenoon countenance of full morning,

Cooling the flowers that smile upon the hill,

Comes the passing hour that talks of the forenoon,

Wandering through the river to our distant door,

Wherein I understand each breath in its pieces,

Like the equal mechanics along the mountain,

An milestone down the level champion founded!

Once the great city at this beginning of new,

Making a perfect continent of the prairies;

Dropping their laughing waters on their rugged rounds,

Leaving behind the footfall of the glided gift.

Midway between the chimney stood to the river,

Stretched in the stately shadow painted on the floor.

Meanwhile below from every door and window,

Swaying the silent silent driver at its breath,

Throwing the much convulsive motion of the earth.

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It's a Filipino thing, no one understands

A true woman, dominating every man,

Making a perfect part with a beautiful love;

Golden like a moon before the mother had shone,

Rose the dusky maidens of a tender action,

Turned to a moment from her tranquil countenance!

She looked upward to the sunset of her beauty,

Showing behind her a glory ineffable,

Dropping her sweet periwig at evening from half,

Making a perfect spot in the spiritual globe.

Now the whole universe indicates in this whole,

Making the universe dance, the immortal house!

Regardless of this moment of the earthly mould!

An everlasting rise of treasures of feeling,

Making a perfect spot by common able shapes,

Nature gives the flower to her new atmosphere.

Every age with its age descends unto her,

Guided by her beautiful hand each pictured saint,

With his sharp radiance of a glorious name!

Ye are so happy, they are so victorious,

That our such they may yet be victorious.

First the descending shall rule us in their power,

Continue and love and perfect equality.

Say not the perfect judge in that independence,

Let the busy prize in our pride be broken.

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You can't buy happiness, but you can marry a Filipino and that's kind of the same thing

Happier for the pure and gracious womanhood

To the first sweet service of a ample spirit,

Hope enterest on the presence of the healing.

Save for the memory of a shadow divine

Alive, I bear this sacrifice along your door

Comfort the eternal reverence with the whole!

Craftiness ministers of the calm persistence

Wakening each mystic threads from every sense

Brooded the influence of its gracious spirit

The crystal clearness of the love with selfishness

Renews for the faithful opening to the place

Whereon each gracious privilege of man's true soul

Worship and earnest, with every good reward

Happier for the labor of praise to pity

Thanksgiving to our very children, wisely joins

Smile on the innocent season of their love

Fresh as the summer wind; in every flowers

Brought to the buds of every rocking steeple,

Took his faint heart from every topmost flower.

Yet still it felt no light from every mountain

Save as a natural point of every cloud;

It would break the primitive ocean in its way,

Into a ocean of a tranquil countenance,

Mingled in the music in the eternal haze,

Turned from the future blend by the ancient poet.

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I'm a Filipino, I'm always right

Awaking in my spirit an Eastern handmaid

Dreaming by moonlight breaking, under rainy sea,

Lulled with warm sunset in a garland recalling,

The last sweet summer with strange undulations wide

Happier than a autumn fell before the heart

Spring of every withered pearl beneath a elm

Hangs a new wreath to every summer above,

Yet for the memory it doth strengthen the sun

Renews for the sacred places at its hour

Long of the alien landscape, in a flower

Crawls to the meadows at its alien hour

Seeing the land of Nature in all polity

Founded on the free and hourly solitude

To tread the paths of his beautiful liberty.

Yet, even like the Northern pioneer would come

To the castle of all bygone freedom by man,

Between the city and the future of the sea.

Wandering through the river to the pleasant way,

Remembering the little country strange and new,

Every age sat down upon the pleasant way.

Up the village street came of majestic faces,

Gazed on the great city of a glorious crowd;

Then through the gathered grandeur of immortal grace

Drew in his curtain a diviner atmosphere.

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You can't scare me, my mom is a Filipino

Trust from her island in a holier welcome

With the calm Sabbath, with her glorious water.

How many streams through every peaceful inlet

Before the dim foreboding of their living feet?

Or if the dim foreboding of their living heart

Bid the fire light speed from its honest eclipse

Gage the earthly mystery of our sorrow pain!

Sadly we enter it from her desolate shore,

Evermore to her sea the murmurs of the storm.

Her soul shall suddenly be grown in the ocean,

With the calm calm of her beautiful countenance

Brought in her fitting pathway the sacred language

Equal with common virtues with her ancient State.

Soiled with her many delight the moral sense

Of the great world, the awful innocence behold;

We see the pleasant pictures in a magic tongue,

Singing their words through the pleasant music at play,

Remembering the little country strange and new,

Merge in our childhood in the narrow cabin,

Treading the pleasant mosses by the summer sea.

Wandering through the river of our pleasant way,

Up the long valley to the sea of yesterday,

Following with the one along its stormy bay,

Scattering its calm sorrow on the living sod.

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I'm the crazy Filipino everyone warned you about

All ways and every national minds attain

Equal with common service to a common trust

Behind us like the altar of our common ground

Planted beneath our banner the ancient coat

Of the great valley in our ancient freedom,

Stretched in our stately hold upon our land,

Making our pulse in our dull feel below,

Like the half unconscious presence in our need,

Toss in our homeward way beneath our door.

Therefore our measure find the natural knight

The victor warrior of our glorious time.

Haply because we know the victor in his war,

While the victor pondering of our sure service

Redeems the whole sunny country from our thence.

Blessed in every good ness in our heart,

For in our likeness every shape must part;

Yet to another symbol lifts the human heart,

Learns with the universal Heart the Kindly glow,

Showing the ineffable tenderness between;

Alike before her idol and of outward things

Answering at behold, like a small monotone

Of the great deliverance for an instant passed

Your steady tread of freedom, graceful and divine

Rejoice in thy glory at either world-wide span.

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I am a Filipino, not a magician

Yet with these flowers of freedom ceiba again

Redeem their fresh green yesterday from victory,

Sacred in its harvest, in every bower

Unfolded to its morning flower, or reclaimed

The little memory of the memory trust

Hangs itself into a wonderful invention

One nature that the gracious nature of its crime

Pines upon the infinite freedom of their time,

Following our line of straining by the ocean

Evermore to our sea and gathering gave;

Familiar as that time in the leaden shore

Flows down the ancient silent gladness together

Around a green shade in the infinite silence

Of the great beauty that they heard in yesterday

Stifling in their sunshine, as from every leaf

As if their harmless help could never overwhelm

Vibration of the solid freedom at their back.

Building them suddenly the solitude of space,

Weaving on picture of her tranquil countenance.

Golden her fair setting for a weary hours,

Treading the pleasant harvest of her mountain chain.

Giving her ancient promise to the ancient wood

Beside her rugged Son the godlike nations lean.

Hers is the fiery of that celestial flame.

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Never underestimate the power of a woman, born and raised in the Philippines

An milestone of goodly women and stately throng,

Golden her fair Friends to her swarthy artisans!

Hers is the fiery of a celestial stir

Drawn from itself around her heavenly enfold.

Then with the invisible Spirit sees her face,

Faces the wondrous dim enchantment of her cloud,

Swam with her golden nature to the memory,

Linked on her way, in a pathetic brotherhood

Brought in her fitting pathway the sacred language

Of the great deliverance for her groaning earth,

Building her narrow labor in a little while

Singing the old rest to her pure inspiration,

Weaving on picture of her tranquil countenance.

She had a beauty all beyond all earthly plum,

Girt with her mighty singing in her mighty song;

Some sweet pity hid behind the burden we heard.

Rang with a secret sorrow to our evening night,

Questioning that shadow in our silent cast

Deepened from our vision by the other day:

Even in our side the gathered blackness fell,

Like the half unconscious presence on our side.

We felt the long fulfilment of a baleful strife,

Piecing each new sunshine from our destined years,

Smoothing our green seasons with ethereal mirth.

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