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Bust of Zeus.jpg This user is interested in Greek mythology.
The temple of Hephaestus at Athens


Boomx021 has been a member of the WikiCommunity since June 7, 2008. He is currently a student in the University of Santo Tomas in the Philippines. He is currently working on a degree in Archaeology. His studies have included studies of Roman forums, Greek Temples, Jerusalem and a few other historical sites.

Along with his studies, Boomx021 has also taken a trip to Athens to study different archaeological locations such as the Temple of Hephaestus and the Parthenon. His studies have also refined in him a taste for Greek Mythology with his studies centering on the Greek god Hephaestus, the god of fire and natural beings related to it. Along with that, he is also the god of craftsmanship, which including blacksmithing, sculpting and others.

Other than his studies in archaeology, Boomx021 has also studied the books of Filipino nationalist, José Rizal. His works and letters are the centre of Boomx021's life, and the execution of José Rizal is the centre of the Philippine Revolution.

Sleep in the shadows of nothingness,

redeemer of an enslaved land, don't weep in the mystery of the tomb, nor grieve the momentary triumph of the Spaniard; for if the bullet ravaged your skull,

your idea vanquished an empire!
— Cecilio Apostol, Filipino poet, "Rizal, a Eulogy", on the 2nd anniversary of Rizal's death (30 December 1898)
Jose rizal 01.jpg

My Last Farewell[edit]

English translation of José Rizal's Mi último adiós by Edwin Lozada

Farewell, beloved Country, treasured region of the sun,
Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our vanquished Eden!
To you I gladly surrender this melancholy life;
And were it brighter, fresher, gaudier,
Even then I’d give it to you, to you alone would then I give.
In fields of battle, deliriously fighting,
Others give you their lives, without doubt, without regret;
Where there’s cypress, laurel or lily,
On a plank or open field, in combat or cruel martyrdom,
If the home or country asks, it's all the same--it matters not.
I die when I see the sky unfurls its colors
And at last after a cloak of darkness announces the day;
If you need scarlet to tint your dawn,
Paint with my blood, pour it as the moment comes,
And may it be gilded by a reflection of the heaven’s new-born light.
My dreams, even as a child,
My dreams, when a young man in the prime of life,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the eastern seas,
Dry those dark eyes, raise that forehead high,
Without frown, without wrinkle, without stain of shame.
My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire,
Is for this soul that will soon depart to cry out: Salud!
To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to give you flight,
To die to give you life, to rest under your sky,
And in your enchanted land forever sleep.
If upon my grave one day you may behold,
Amidst the dense grass, a simple lowly flower,
Place it upon your lips, and my soul you’ll kiss,
And on my brow may I feel, under the cold tomb,
The tenderness of your touch, the warmth of your breath.
Let the moon see me in soft and tranquil light,
Let the dawn burst forth its fleeting radiance,
Let the wind moan with its gentle murmur,
And should a bird descend and rest on my cross,
Let it sing its canticle of peace.
Let the burning sun evaporate the rain,
And with the struggle behind, towards the sky may they turn pure;
Let a friend mourn my early demise,
And in the serene afternoon, when someone prays for me,
O Country, pray that God will also grant me rest!
Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died,
For all who suffered torment unequaled,
For grieving mothers who in bitterness cry,
For orphans and widows, for prisoners in torture,
And for yourself to see your redemption at last.
And when the burial ground is shrouded in dark night,
And there alone, only the departed remain in vigil,
Disturb not their rest, nor their secrets,
And should you hear chords from a zither or harp,
'Tis I, O land beloved, 'tis I, to you I sing !
And when my grave, then by all forgotten,
has not a cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let men plow and with a spade disperse it,
And before my ashes return to nothing,
May they be the dust that carpets your fields.
Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion.
Your air, your space, your valleys I will cross.
I will be vibrant music to your ears,
Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and song,
Ever echoing the essence of my faith.
Land that I love, sorrow of my sorrows,
Adored Filipinas, hear my last good-bye.
There I leave you all, my parents, my beloved.
I go where there are no slaves, hangmen nor oppressors,
Where faith does not kill, where the one who reigns is God.
Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters, fragments of my soul,
Childhood friends in the home now gone,
Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome day;
Goodbye, sweet stranger, my friend, my joy;
Farewell, loved ones. To die is to rest.