It was a single sheet of notepaper bearing verses in Rizal's well-known handwriting and familiar style. Hastily the young boy copied them, making some minor mistakes owing to his agitation and unfamiliarity with the language, and the copy, without explanation, was mailed to Mr. Basa in Hongkong. Then the original was taken by the two women with their few possessions and they fled to join the insurgents in Cavite. The following translation of these verses was made by Charles Derbyshire: My Last Farewell Farewell, dear Fatherland, clime of the sun caress'd, Pearl of the Orient seas, our Eden lost! Gladly now I go to give thee this faded life's best, And were it brighter, fresher, or more blest, Still would I give it thee, nor count the cost. On the field of battle, 'mid the frenzy of fight, Others have given their lives, without doubt or heed; The place matters not--cypress or laurel or lily white, Scaffold of open plain, combat or martyrdom's plight, 'Tis ever the same, to serve our home and country's need. I die just when I see the dawn break, Through the gloom of night, to herald the day; And if color is lacking my blood thou shalt take, Pour'd out at need for thy dear sake, To dye with its crimson the waking ray. My dreams, when life first opened to me, My dreams, when the hopes of youth beat high, Were to see thy lov'd face, O gem of the Orient sea, From gloom and grief, from care and sorrow free; No blush on thy brow, no tear in thine eye Dream of my life, my living and burning desire, All hail! cries the soul that is now to take flight; All hail! And sweet it is for thee to expire; To die for thy sake, that thou mayst aspire; And sleep in thy bosom eternity's long night. If over my grave some day thou seest grow, In the grassy sod, a humble flower, Draw it to thy lips and kiss my soul so, While I may feel on my brow in the cold tomb below The touch of thy tenderness, thy breath's warm power. Let the moon beam over me soft and serene, Let the dawn shed over me its radiant flashes, Let the wind with sad lament over me keen; And if on my cross a bird should be seen, Let it trill there its hymn of peace to my ashes. Let the sun draw the vapors up to the sky, And heavenward in purity bear my tardy protest; Let some kind soul o'er my untimely fate sigh, And in the still evening a prayer be lifted on high From thee, O my country, that in God I may rest. Pray for all those that hapless have died, For all who have suffered the unmeasur'd pain; For our mothers that bitterly their woes have cried, For widows and orphans, for captives by torture tried; And then for thyself that redemption thou mayst gain.