Share this poet:
Antonio Machado
|
 |
|
Antonio Machado Poems
- Last Night As I Was Sleeping Last night as I was sleeping, I...
- The Wind, One Brilliant Day The wind, one brilliant day, ...
- Fields Of Soria Hills of silver plate, grey heights, dark ...
- Has My Heart Gone To Sleep? Has my heart gone to sleep? Have...
- Songs Of The High Country Soria, in blue mountains, on the ...
- Passageways Who set, between those rocks like cinder, to ...
- To JośE MarίA Palaci... Palacio, good friend, is ...
Antonio Cipriano José María y Francisco de Santa Ana Machado y Ruiz, known as Antonio Machadocwas a Spanish poet and one of the leading figures of the Spanish literary movement known as the Generation of '98.
Life
Machado was born in Seville one year after his brother Manuel. The family moved to Madrid in 1883 and both brothers enrolled in the Institución Libre de Enseñanza. During these years, and with the encouragement of his teachers, Antonio discovered his passion for literature. While completing his Bachillerato in Madrid, economic difficulties forced him to take several jobs including working as an actor. In 1899 he travelled with his brother to Paris to work as ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Last Night As I Was Sleeping
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I ...
PoemHunter.com Updates
-
Check out
Classic Poets
-
Footsteps of Angels
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
-
A Song About Myself
John Keats
-
A Very Short Song
Dorothy Parker
The Poem: Traveler, there is no path is so much longer and more intense than the lines published here. It is sad that so few get the chance to read the complete poem. For anyone who is interested to read the whole poem, please follow the link: http: //sophiasmirror.blogspot.com/2018/08/traveler-there-is-no-path_12.html
I lived in Spain in the later sixties. The college kids I hung around with loved bullfighting, Real Madrid and Machado, not always in that order. He was, they would say to mea calm voice and someone who loved the people. They respected and loved the gypsy flash of Lorca (these were people who recited in the streets, to women from under balconies, in bars amidst the noise) but Machado was their honored and loving friend who gave them back a language that was their own.
Bob Sagget! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Ej mejor de la Generacion del '98. Gran Poeta!
Antonio Machado was one of the greatest poet of Spain and one of the greatest of the Generation of'98.