Antonio Machado Poems

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
...

The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.

'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
...

Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams
stopped working, the waterwheel
of the mind run dry,
...

Hills of silver plate,
grey heights, dark red rocks
through which the Duero bends
its crossbow arc
...

Soria, in blue mountains,
on the fields of violet,
how often I’ve dreamed of you
on the plain of flowers,
...

Who set, between those rocks like cinder,
to show the honey of dream,
that golden broom,
those blue rosemaries?
...

Guadarrama, is it you, old friend,
mountains white and gray
that I used to see painted against the blue
those afternoons of the old days in Madrid?
...

Palacio, good friend,
is spring there
showing itself on branches of black poplars
by the roads and river? On the steeps
...

Todo pasa y todo queda,
pero lo nuestro es pasar,
pasar haciendo caminos,
caminos sobre el mar.
...

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé, ¡bendita ilusión!,
que una fontana fluía
dentro de mi corazón.
...