Background
The English version of Kundiman carries the emotional weight and nationalist spirit of Rizal’s original Tagalog poem. Although translated, it preserves the central themes of sorrow, devotion, and hope that define the kundiman tradition.
In Rizal’s time, a kundiman was more than a love song; it was a quiet confession spoken by a heart in pain. By using this form, Rizal expressed the deep affection he felt for the Philippines — a love tender enough to grieve and strong enough to fight.
This translation reflects that same blend of heartbreak and determination. It shows a subdued nation that longs for freedom yet remains steadfast in its belief that someday it will rise again.
The Full Poem: Kundiman (English Translation)
Now mute indeed are tongue and heart:
love shies away, joy stands apart.
Neglected by its leaders and defeated,
the country was subdued and it submitted.
But O the sun will shine again!
Itself the land shall disenchain;
and once more round the world with growing praise
shall sound the name of the Tagalog race.
We shall pour out our blood in a great flood
to liberate the parent sod;
but till that day arrives for which we weep,
love shall be mute, desire shall sleep.
Analysis
The English translation of Kundiman remains faithful to the emotional core of Rizal’s poem. Like the original Tagalog version, it is framed as a love song spoken to a beloved who is suffering — the Philippines. The language is gentle but burdened; the tone lingers between mourning and hope. The opening lines immediately set the atmosphere: “Now mute indeed are tongue and heart” suggests a profound silence forced upon a people unable to fully express their sorrow. Love and joy have withdrawn, not because they have faded, but because oppression has robbed the country of the freedom to feel openly. The phrase “the country was subdued and it submitted” encapsulates the exhaustion of a nation bent under injustice, yet the quietness here is more tragic than passive.
The second stanza breaks the heaviness with a sudden surge of hope. “But O the sun will shine again!” injects the poem with brightness, transforming despair into anticipation. Rizal’s belief in eventual liberation is unwavering; the land will “disenchain” itself, implying that true freedom must rise from within the people. The return of the Tagalog name “with growing praise” extends the poem’s vision beyond the archipelago. It imagines a future where the Filipino identity is restored, recognized, and respected. The translation captures this shift beautifully, preserving the sense of prophecy and confidence found in the original.
In the final stanza, the poem turns solemn but resolute. “We shall pour out our blood in a great flood” speaks of sacrifice, the kind that only deep love can offer. The imagery is strong yet tender: liberation will require suffering, but it will be suffering embraced willingly for the sake of the homeland. Still, that moment has not yet come. The closing lines return to the motif of silence introduced at the beginning. “Love shall be mute, desire shall sleep” reflects a patient devotion, one that must remain hidden until the destined hour of freedom arrives. This quiet endurance is at the heart of the kundiman form — the beloved waits in pain, but never without hope.
Taken together, the English translation of Kundiman preserves the emotional arc of the original: sorrow, awakening, sacrifice, and patient love. It captures the voice of a patriot who sees his country’s suffering with clarity but also believes deeply in its future redemption. Even in another language, the poem remains a powerful expression of devotion — a vow whispered in darkness, holding fast to the promise of dawn.
