When at night, the moon,
In the heavens, roused, looks out,
As if awakened by the cold, wet winds
From its sleep, in the water, its image slumbers
An image, white and pure
Whose hair is unfurled by the downpour,
This is the Pearl of Pasig,
This is the Pearl of Pasig.

In its playful weaving, in and out
Of the whitecaps of the river’s flow,
With it, comes the song,
Comes the poem:

I used to be the river’s Maiden
Within it, I lived in a kingdom of love
But my love has perished
And so did my kingdom

My strength I bestowed
Upon the heart of every person
And if you want me to live again
Bequeath my love away.