Professional Documents
Culture Documents
POETRY
SELECTED POEM S O F
ANTONIO MAGHADO
CHOSEN AN D TRANSLATE D B Y
ROBERT EL Y
Acknowledgments:
The translato r i s gratefu l t o th e editor s o f th e followin g journals , who pub -
lished som e of thes e translations : Tennessee Poetry Journal, Ironwood, Michi-
gan Quarterly, Doones, Creative Arts Journal, The Nation, Massachusetts
Review, White Pine Press, River Styx, Plainsong, an d th e Harvard Advocate.
A few of the poem s wer e also published earlie r in thre e chapbooks: Condones,
Toothpaste Press ; / Never Wanted Fame, All y Press ; Times Alone, Coppe r
Canyon Press .
L I B R A R Y O F CONGRES S C A T A L O G I N G I N P U B L I C A T I O N DAT A
[*]
With the aroma of the bean plants, the wind
runs in the joyful solitude of the fields!
We fee l tha t Machad o i s layin g a relativel y ligh t han d o n
nature here . I wa s more accustome d t o poem s i n whic h th e
author use s natur e t o mak e philosophica l points : Wha t a
certain ape did i s brought i n to bolster an argument, th e swan
sailing become s a symbol o f pride, th e snak e is either evi l or
wisdom, but seldo m a real snake. John Donn e writes well, but
his fleas always seem to fit into some elaborate human system ,
alchemical, Christian , o r occult . There is nothing th e matte r
with that, except that we may not hav e asked the snake or th e
flea how he feels about it .
It seem s that i n th e West, in general , when we write abou t
a field, we bring th e field into ou r stud y an d clos e th e door .
Not all poets do, of course. But one feels that Machado doesn't
ask th e field to com e to his poem, but h e brings hi s poem t o
the bean field . . . and eve n more amazing , he leaves it there I
With the aroma of the bean plants, the wind
runs in the joyful solitude of the fields!
That doesn't mea n that Machado is a nature Romantic ; (h e is
in fac t suspiciou s of the Romantics; ) nor tha t h e undervalues
the intellect ; (h e took i n fac t hi s advanced degre e in philoso -
phy). I thin k i t mean s tha t h e wishe s t o giv e t o th e fields a
respect simila r t o th e respec t he give s to an idea .
[3]
Pythagoras gav e hi m confidenc e t o writ e brie f poems , fo r
Pythagoras lef t onl y sayings . An d ye t hi s saying s sugges t a
secret bon d betwee n th e "sowe r o f th e stars, " an d th e lyre -
player o n earth . W e se e a gestur e o f someon e sowin g grain ,
whose hand sweep s the string s of a lyre, and fro m i t come s a
wave o f musi c tha t reache s eve n t o Spain . Whe n Spai n los t
the remain s o f he r empir e i n 1898 , th e writer s o f tha t gen -
eration realize d tha t th e ol d rhetorica l bluf f wa s over , an d
they had t o live now with reduced expectations , a diminishe d
thing, sadness , grief , limite d resources , a few words that wer e
honest.
[4]
were anothe r mothe r an d child—h e ha d a stic k o f suga r can e
too. I wa s sure min e wa s bigger— I kne w i t was ! Eve n so , I
asked my mother—because children alway s ask questions they
already kno w the answer to: 'Mine' s bigger, isn' t it? ' And she
said, 'No , m y boy , it' s not . Wha t hav e yo u don e wit h you r
eyes?' I'v e bee n asking myself tha t questio n eve r since."
The Ch'a n teacher s tel l a stor y abou t a ma n o f th e worl d
who one day confronts a master, and ask s him t o sum up wha t
he ha s learne d i n hi s lif e a s a Buddhis t monk . Th e maste r
hands hi m a piec e o f pape r wit h on e wor d writte n o n it :
"Attention!" The worldl y man no w insists that he is a serious
student, and implie s that the master i s holding back. He takes
the paper bac k and writes "Attention. Attention. " Th e world -
ly ma n no w appeal s t o th e master' s humanity , point s ou t
that h e to o has a soul , an d the y wil l bot h di e soon ; i t i s the
master's duty to tell hi m what h e needs to know. The maste r
says: "You'r e right." Taking the pape r he writes three words:
"Attention! Attention ! Attention! " Muc h o f Machado' s lif e
he spen t i n thi s effort o f attention .
[5]
color also) ; t o synchronicity , tha t i s occasiona l identit y o f
human and natural events ; and to the curious world of dreams.
"Pythagoras' lyr e goes on resonating i n dreams, " he said .
Yet h e di d no t wan t t o los e "we" . H e kne w tha t a secre t
"you" wa s present i n th e feeling s evoke d b y a landscape . I n
poetry ever y feeling , h e said , "need s fo r it s creatio n th e dis-
tress o f othe r frightene d heart s amon g a natur e no t under -
stood. . .. In short , m y feeling i s not onl y mine , bu t ours."
[6]
poems to it during hi s years in Baeza . In 1919 , he transferre d
again, this time to Segovia, which is only an hour from Madrid.
He wa s able no w on weekends to escape from provincia l life ,
which he complained was boring and deadening; and he began
writing plays and takin g part in the intellectual life of Madrid.
He live d in Segovi a from 191 9 to 1932 , thirteen years, during
which he fell i n lov e with a married woma n he called "Guio -
mar," invente d tw o poet-philosopher s name d Abe l Marti n
and Juan d e Mairena, an d publishe d hi s third book , Nuevas
canciones (New Poems). H e becam e mor e an d mor e activ e
in publi c life , writin g i n th e paper s o n politica l an d mora l
issues durin g th e excitin g perio d tha t le d i n 193 1 t o th e
proclamation o f th e Secon d Spanis h Republic . H e live d i n
Madrid afte r 193 2 with his brother Jose " and wrote , disguised
playfully a s Juan de Mairena, many articles in the newspapers
defending th e Republi c an d it s plans . Afte r th e civi l wa r
began i n 1936 , he continued t o write prose, bu t littl e poetry ,
and finally , January 28 , 1939, moving ahead of Franco's army ,
crossed th e Pyrenee s as a passenger in a n ol d car , holding hi s
mother o n his lap. H e died at Collioure, jus t over the border ,
on February 22 , and a s the gravestone s make clear, his mother
survived hi m b y only a few days. His attitude towar d hi s own
life resembled James Wright's towar d his: that it was a bookish
life, and th e event s were not to o important .
[7]
So Machado, thoug h h e wante d poetr y t o hav e nobilit y an d
beauty, refused t o achieve tha t throug h poeti c or archai c lan -
guage, which he kne w involve d a misus e o f time.
"Mr. Martinez , g o to the board and write :
Those olde n sword s of the glorious times . . . "
The studen t obeyed .
"To whic h tim e do you think th e poet was alluding here?"
"To th e tim e whe n th e sword s were no t old. "
"Every day , gentlemen , literatur e i s mor e 'written ' an d les s
spoken. Th e resul t i s tha t ever y da y w e writ e worse , i n a chill y
prose, withou t grace, howeve r correct i t ma y be: ou r eloquenc e i s
merely th e writte n wor d frie d again , i n whic h th e spoke n wor d
has alread y been encased . Inside ever y orator o f our tim e ther e i s
always a clumsy journalist. The importan t thin g i s to spea k well :
with liveliness , thought, an d grace . Th e res t will be given u s as a
gift."
He distrusts ancient eloquence:
"The trut h i s th e truth,"—perhap s Agamemno n sai d i t o r hi s
swineherd.
Agamemnon: "Absolutel y clear. "
Swineherd: "I' m no t sur e about that . . . ."
[8]
FROM
TIMES ALON E
PASSAGEWAYS I N T H E H O U S E
AND O T H E R P O E M S
SOLDEDADES
GALERIAS
Y OTRO S P O E M A S
ENLARGED I N IQO ^
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A PONIO MACHAD O wrot e som e o f hi s drea m poem s i n
his first book, Soledades, in 1899 ; Freud publishe d his
Interpretation o f Dreams th e sam e year. Machad o indepen -
dently makes dreams a primary subject of his poems, descends
into them, looks to them for guidance, goes downward, farther
and farthe r unti l h e find s water . Th e wate r h e ha s foun d
makes Soledades refreshing . One coul d sa y that "th e world "
exerts tremendou s pressure on th e psyche , collective opinio n
terrorizes the soul; the demands of the world obsess the pysche,
and th e worl d and it s attractions offer t o use up al l th e tim e
available. Eac h person need s then, earl y on, t o g o inside, fa r
enough inside to water the plants, awaken the animals, become
friends wit h th e desires , an d sens e what Machad o calls "th e
living pulse of the spirit," start the fire in the hearth, and close
the door so that what is inside us has sufficient powe r to hol d
its ow n agains t th e force s longin g t o invade . Machad o ha s
achieved thi s inner strengthenin g b y the tim e he finishes his
first book, and hi s praise of dreams is clear:
Memory is valuable for one thing,
astonishing: it brings dreams back.
His deep-lyin g confidence he perhap s received a s a reward
for hi s labor , o r perhap s i t wa s given a s a gift ; w e can't tell .
But th e confidence is unmistakable:
There the good and silent spirits
of life are waiting for you,
and one day they will carry you
to a garden of eternal spring.
["]
In the golden poplars
far off, the shadow of love is waiting for you.
It's clea r tha t hi s confidenc e rise s fro m som e sourc e fa r
below th e intellect , fa r belo w eve n th e securit y provided b y
the healthy mind i n th e healthy body. This sort o f confidence
seems t o spring from earlies t infancy. The positive , energeti c
mother hold s th e chil d nea r he r heart , an d h e look s ou t o n
the world : i t seem s all blossoming , al l good , an d h e carrie s
that confidenc e with hi m al l hi s life . Machad o suggest s tha t
if h e wer e a Provenca l lov e poet , an d wrot e a poe m t o a
woman's eyes, it would probably go this way:
your clear eyes, your eyes have
the calm and good light,
the good light of the blossoming world, that I saw
one day from the arms of my mother.
Even thoug h Soledades i s the book o f a young man, h e asks
questions i n i t usuall y no t aske d unti l ol d age . On e poe m
begins:
Faint sound of robes brushing
the exhausted earth!
This i s no t a romanti c poe m abou t villag e life , a s I firs t
thought: he say s tha t i f one really wants t o be depressed, on e
can liste n t o thi s sound—th e Spanis h priest' s rob e brushin g
worn-out soil . I t remind s u s o f Blake' s despai r i n London .
Machado warn s us that we are not alone :
Snowy Roman ghosts
go about lighting the stars.
And h e warn s tha t i n suc h situations , i t i s ver y eas y fo r " a
phantasm" t o come, and thro w off our sens e of reality.
And h e ask s hard question s abou t wha t i s going on inside.
What i f we , ou t o f fea r o r recklessnes s o r carelessnes s have
stopped th e soul' s growth ? Wha t i f we , havin g invite d th e
world t o be with us, have let th e lif e o f the feelin g die?
[12]
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an aroma of jasmine.
[13]
The Westerner , afte r centurie s o f extroverte d science , an d
determined philosophica l attempt s t o remove sou l fro m con -
versation, architecture, observation and education , sees insid e
himself, an d sees what the ancients saw, but ca n hardly believe
it. He confesses tha t he must be seeing wrong .
In 1917 , whe n Machad o pu t togethe r hi s Selected Poems,
he wrote an introductor y piece for Soledades, and thi s is what
he said :
The poem s o f thi s first book, whic h wa s published i n Januar y
of 1903 , were written betwee n 189 9 an d 1902 . Around tha t time ,
Ruben Dario , who m th e critic s the n i n fashio n attacke d wit h
mockery, wa s th e ido l o f a smal l minority . I to o admire d th e
author o f Prosas profanas (Worldly Stories'), th e grea t maste r o f
form and feeling , who later revealed the depth o f his soul in Cantos
de vida y esperanza (Poems o f Life an d Hope). Bu t I tried—an d
notice I d o no t boas t o f results, but onl y of intentions—to follo w
a quit e distinc t road. I though t tha t th e substanc e of poetry doe s
not li e in th e sound value of the word, nor i n it s color, no r i n th e
metric line, nor in the complex of sensations, but i n the deep puls e
of th e spirit ; an d thi s deep pulse is what the sou l contributes, if it
contributes anything , or wha t i t says , i f i t say s anything , with it s
own voice, in a courageous answe r to the touc h o f the world. An d
I though t als o tha t a ma n ca n overtak e b y surprise som e o f th e
phrases o f his inwar d conversation s wit h himself , distinguishin g
the livin g voic e fro m th e dea d echoes ; tha t he , lookin g inward ,
can glimps e th e deep-roote d images , th e thing s o f feelin g which
all me n possess . M y boo k wa s no t th e systemati c realization o f
this proposal, bu t suc h were my artistic intentions at tha t time .
This boo k wa s republished i n 1907 , with th e additio n o f ne w
poems whic h adde d nothin g substantia l t o th e origina l work ,
under the title Soledades, galerias y otros poemas. The tw o volumes
in effec t mad e u p a single book .
ANTONIO MACHAD O
Madrid, 191 7
N]
TIMES ALON E
PASSAGEWAYS I N TH E HOUS E
AND OTHE R POEM S
1
y pedantone s a l pan o
que miran , callan, y piensan
que saben, porque no beben
el vino de las tabernas.
y no conoce n la prisa
ni au n e n los dias de fiesta.
Donde ha y vino, beben vino ;
donde n o ha y vino, agu a fresca .
[16]
1
[17]
2
RECUERDO INFANTI L
Es la clase. E n u n carte l
se representa a Cain
fugitive, y muerto Abel ,
junto a una manch a carmin.
[18]
2
[>9l
3
[20]
3
[«i]
4
EN E L E N T I E R R O D E U N AMIG O
El aire se llevaba
de la honda fosa e l blanquecino aliento .
Definitivamente,
duerme un suen o tranquilo y verdadero.
[M]
4
THE B U R I A L O F A F R I E N D
Two gravedigger s
let th e coffi n han g ther e
heavily on it s fa t rope s
and the n settl e to the bottom . . .
A whitish breath
rose fro m th e deep hole, an d th e wind took it .
It i s final now,
sleep your untroubled an d tru e dream."
[«S]
5
Jugando, a la sombra
de una plaza vieja,
los ninos cantaban ...
La fuent e d e piedr a
vertia su eterno
cristal de leyenda.
[«4]
5
Playing in th e shadow s
of the ancient square ,
the children g o on singing .
[«5l
Cantaban lo s ninos
canciones ingenuas ,
de un alg o que pasa
y que nunca llega:
la historia confus a
y clara la pena.
Seguia su cuento
la fuent e serena ;
borrada l a historia ,
contaba la pena .
[86]
The childre n wer e singin g
their innocent songs,
of somethin g whic h is in motio n
yet neve r arrives :
the histor y is tangled
but th e pain i s clear.
[«7]
6
[28]
6
N]
7
imagenes amigas,
a la vuelta florida del sendero,
y quimera s rosada s
que hacen camino . . . lejos . . .
[30]
7
sweet visions
at the flowery turn i n the road,
and mythica l monsters, rosy ones,
that wander . . . far away . . .
[30
8
[32]
8
Dying coals
smoke in the west . . .
Snowy Roma n ghost s
go about lightin g th e stars .
[33]
9
[34]
9
[35]
1O
[36]
1O
[37]
II
LA N O R I A
La tard e caf a
triste y polvorienta.
El agua cantaba
su copla plebeya
en los cangilones
de la noria lenta.
Sonaba la mula,
jpobre mul a vieja! ,
al compas de sombra
que e n e l agua suena .
La tard e cai a
triste y polvorienta .
Yo no se ~ que" noble,
divino poeta,
unio a la amargura
de la eterna rued a
la dulc e armoni a
del agua que suena,
y vendo tus ojos ,
jpobre mula vieja! . . .
[38]
11
[39]
12
GLOSA
jGran placer !
Mas £y el horror d e volver?
]Gran pesar!
[40]
12
COMMENTARY
Great joy!
But—the terror of returning ?
Great grief l
[4i]
13
[43]
J
3
[43]
*4
[44]
H
Is my soul asleep?
Have thos e beehives tha t labor
at night stopped? And the water
wheel of thought,
is it dry, the cups empty,
wheeling, carryin g onl y shadows?
[45]
15
. . . [E l limonar florido ,
el cipresal del huerto ,
el prado verde, el sol, el agua, el iris! . . . ,
I el agua en tus cabellos! . . .
[46]
*5
Clouds ripped open ; a rainbow
gleanrng now in th e sky,
the fields entirely folded insid e
the glas s bell o f rain and sunlight .
[47]
i6
[48]
i6
[49]
17
Desde e l umbral d e un suen o me llamaron . . .
Eta la buena voz, la voz querida.
[5°]
i?
From th e door sill of a dream the y called my name....
It wa s the good voice , the voice I loved s o much.
[5i]
i8
Si yo fuera un poeta
galante, cantari a
a vuestros ojos un canta r ta n puro
como en el marmol bianco e l agua limpia .
[52]
i8
If I were a poet
of love , I would make
a poem fo r your eye s as clear
as the transparen t wate r i n th e marbl e pool .
[53]
19
[54]
19
[55]
20
[56]
20
[57]
21
La cas a ta n querid a
donde habitaba ella ,
sobre u n monto n d e escombro s arruinad a
o derruida, ensefi a
el negro y carcomido
maltrabado esquelet o de madera .
[58]
21
[59]
22
[60]
22
Like Anacreon ,
I wan t t o sing, and t o laugh, an d t o throw
to th e win d
the sophisticate d sarcasms , an d th e soberin g proverbs .
[61]
23
La blanc a cigiiena,
como un garabato ,
tranquila y disforme, [ta n disparatada! ,
sobre e l campanario .
p»]
23
[63]
24
[64]
24
[65]
25
CAMPO
[66]
25
FIELD
[67]
26
RENACIMIENTO
[68]
26
REBIRTH
In ou r soul s everything
moves guided b y a mysterious hand.
We kno w nothing o f our ow n souls
that are ununderstandable an d say nothing.
[69]
27
[7o]
27
[7i]
28
[72]
28
[73]
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FROM
THE C O U N T R Y S I D E
OF CASTIL E
CAMPOS D E CASTILL A
ENLARGED I N1 91 7
This page intentionally left blank
SILY I N lazy moments does a poet concentrate o n inter -
"opreting hi s dreams , an d pickin g things ou t o f the m
he ca n us e i n hi s poems. Dream stud y has not ye t produce d
anything of importance i n poetry . Th e poem s written whil e
we are awake, even those less successful, are more original an d
more beautiful , an d sometime s more wil d tha n thos e mad e
from ou r dreams . I can say this because I spent many years of
my lif e thinkin g jus t th e opposite . Bu t a par t o f wisdo m is
changing one's opinions."
Machado wants the conscious mind t o take part, eve n more
vigorously tha n i t di d i n Soledades, whil e th e poe m itsel f
remains mysterious and committed to depth. This idea marks
a bi g shif t fro m th e aim s of Soledades. During th e five years
that he spent in Soria, from 190 7 to 1912 , he wrote Th e Coun-
tryside o f Castile (Campos de Castillo), firs t version , an d I'l l
mention five areas in which I've noticed shifts, turns , changes,
increases in depth . H e responds, i n thi s book, t o his mother's
question: "Wha t have you done wit h your eyes? "
Living i n Soria , h e trie s t o se e the countrysid e an d t o de-
scribe wha t a daw n i n Castil e is like, rathe r tha n t o remai n
content wit h a dreamy o r poeti c versio n o f dawn. H e under -
stands tha t being spiritually awake and keeping the eyes open
are connected . "On e ha s to kee p the eye s well ope n i n orde r
to se e things as they are, an d stil l more open t o se e them as
other tha n the y are, and open the m still more widely in order
to see things as better tha n the y are. "
One also senses that he experienced somethin g entirely new
in hi s lov e for Leonor. We could sa y that Machado , wit h his
marvellous introversion , ha d me t year s befor e hi s feminine
self, o r feminin e soul, fa r insid e himself , a t th e en d o f some
[77]
passageway i n a dream . H e experience d tha t acquaintance -
ship; kne w "her. " Bu t whe n h e me t Leono r h e experience d
that feminin e soul i n anothe r person . Isn' t a man's feminin e
soul younge r tha n h e is ? The sou l tha t wa s once inside him ,
or onl y insid e him , i s no w outsid e a s well , an d wha t onc e
tended t o separat e hi m fro m other s now draw s him clos e t o
one huma n being , bond s him . Hi s fait h i n th e surprise s of
the univers e deepens .
Third, he continues t o search in his work for "the thing s of
feeling tha t al l me n possess. " H e move s to brin g th e privat e
close t o th e public , or , mor e exactly , to embod y hi s privat e
introverted perception s in poetic forms so available they could
be called public, for even the people i n Spain that can neithe r
read nor write know the coplas (the popular songs) and ballads .
He compare d th e copla s t o a commo n earthe n ju g tha t h e
once saw lying beside a spring which people could drink from.
In thi s deepenin g h e resemble s Yeats, who, shortly before he
died, referrin g t o a recent article , said that th e greatest honor
anyone coul d pa y hi m wa s t o us e th e wor d "public " abou t
his language .
In accordanc e perhaps wit h his determination t o write with
eyes open , h e take s a ste p fe w twentieth-centur y poets hav e
taken: h e ask s thinking t o ente r hi s poems . H e i s not afrai d
that thinkin g wil l evic t feeling , and i t doesn't ; an d h e recog-
nizes it a s a power, a lif e energy . Thinking often show s itself
in th e willingness t o break th e hoped-for unity. Yeats says:
The intellect of man is forced to choose
Perfection of the life or of the work.
Machado says:
There are two sorts of consciousness:
one involves light, one patience.
He oppose s th e churc h becaus e it depresse s thinking :
Make noise, anvils; be silent, you church bells!
He bring s th e wides t possibl e pole s int o a smal l poem . Fo r
example: Doe s everythin g pas s away? O r i s what passe s away
[78]
only a veil , an d behin d tha t i s ther e somethin g tha t last s
forever?
All things die, and all things live forever;
but our task is to die,
to die while making roads,
roads over the sea.
His thinkin g is sprightly, an d h e take s risk s with it .
Finally, on e sense s i n Th e Countryside o f Castile tha t h e
has passed through some intense burning, some testing , a cook-
ing of some kind, which ha s changed some of his slow lead into
gold. H e n o longe r ha s a bushel-baske t ove r hi s candle , bu t
allows hi s ligh t t o radiate, an d i s very clea r abou t wha t sor t
of ligh t i t is .
I never wanted fame,
nor wanted to leave my poems
behind in the memory of men.
I love the subtle worlds,
delicate, almost without weight
like soap bubbles.
I enjoy seeing them take the color
of sunlight and scarlet, float
in the blue sky, then
suddenly quiver and break.
Here are the words he wrote about The Countryside o f Castile:
In a thir d collectio n I publishe d m y second book , Campos de
Castilla (1912) . Five years in and around Soria , which is now sacred
to me — there I married and ther e I lost my wife, whom I adored —
drew me, my vision an d m y feelings, int o wha t was deeply Castil-
ian. Moreover , m y se t of idea s ha d change d ver y much. W e ar e
victims, I thought , o f a double hallucination. I f we look outward ,
and concentrat e o n enterin g things , ou r externa l worl d begin s t o
lose solidity, an d i f we conclude tha t i t exists not i n an d fo r itself ,
but exist s because of us, it end s by dissolving. However, if, moved
by ou r privat e reality , w e turn ou r eye s inward , the n th e worl d
pushes in o n us , and i t i s our interio r world , our being , that dis-
appears. Wha t t o d o then ? Weave th e threa d give n t o us , dream
our drea m and live ; i t i s the onl y way we can achieve the miracl e
of growth . A ma n attentiv e t o himsel f an d tryin g t o overhea r
[79]
himself drown s th e onl y voice he coul d hear — his own; but othe r
voices confuse him . Are w e then doome d t o b e merel y observers?
But whe n w e see , reason i s present, an d reaso n analyze s an d dis-
solves. Th e reaso n wil l soon brin g th e whol e theate r down , an d
finally, our shado w alone will be projected against the background.
As for the poet, I though t that his job was to create new poems out
of wha t i s eternall y human , spirite d storie s that hav e thei r ow n
life, eve n though they came from him . I considere d th e old narra -
tive romance th e suprem e expression of poetry , an d I wante d t o
write a ne w book o f them . La tierra de Alvergonzalez cam e fro m
this longing . Th e las t thin g I wan t is to resuscitat e the genr e i n
its traditional sense. Working up of old-style ballads—chivalrous or
moorish—was neve r t o m y taste , an d al l imitation s o f archai c
things seem ridiculous to me. It's tru e that I learned to read in the
Romancero general whic h m y uncl e Augusti n Dura n collected ;
but m y own narratives did not spring from heroi c tales, but rathe r
from th e peopl e wh o composed the m and th e part s of the country
where they were sung; my narratives look to what is fundamentally
human, to the Castilian countryside and t o the first book of Moses,
which i s calle d Genesis.
You will come on man y poems in thi s book a long way from th e
propositions I hav e jus t mentioned . Man y o f th e poem s sprin g
from a preoccupatio n wit h th e nation ; other s fro m a simpl e love
of natur e tha t i n m e i s fa r stronge r tha n th e lov e of art . Finally,
some o f th e poem s sho w th e man y hour s o f m y lif e spent—som e
would sa y wasted—thinking about th e puzzle s of the human bein g
and th e oute r world .
ANTONIO MACHAD O
Madrid, 191 7
[80]
THE COUNTRYSID E
OF CASTIL E
RETRATO
[8s]
PORTRAIT
[83]
Y al cabo, nada o s debo; debeism e cuanto he escrit o
A mi trabajo acudo, con mi dinero pag o
el traje que me cubre y la mansion que habito ,
el pan qu e m e alimenta y el lecho en donde yago.
[84]
In the end, I owe you nothing; you owe me what I've written.
I tur n t o my work; with what I've earned I pay
for m y clothes and hat, the house in which I live,
the food tha t feeds my body, the bed on which I sleep.
[85]
i E R E S TtJ , G U A D A R R A M A
[86]
OH, GUADARRAM A RANG E
[87]
AMANECER D E OTON O
A Julio Romero de Torres
[88]
FALL DAW N
For Julio Romero de Torres
[89]
CAMPOS D E SORI A
[90]
TWO POEM S FRO M
"T H E C O U N T R Y S I D E O F S O R I A "
[9i]
2
[92]
2
[93]
CAMINOS
De la ciudad morun a
tras las murallas viejas,
yo contemplo la tard e silenciosa,
a solas con mi sombra y con mi pena.
El rio va corriendo,
entre sombrfas huertas
y grises olivares,
por lo s alegres campos de Baeza.
El viento ha sacudid o
los mustios olmos de la carretera,
levantando en rosados torbellinos
el polvo de la tierra .
La luna estd subiendo
amoratada, jadeante y llena.
[94]
COUNTRY ROAD S
The Guadalquive r
between shadow-fille d orchard s
and grey olive groves
penetrates th e carefree fields of Baeza.
[95]
SENOR, Y A M E ARRANCAST E
[96]
LORD, YO U HAV E R I P P E D AWA Y
[97]
DICE L A ESPERANZ A
Dice la esperanza : un di a
la veras, si bien esperas.
Dice la desesperanza:
s61o t u amargur a e s ella.
Late, corazon . .. No todo
se lo ha tragad o la tierra.
[98]
H O P E SAY S
[99]
ALLA, E N LA S TIERRA S ALTA S
[100]
THERE I N THA T M O U N T A I N O U S LAN D
[101]
SONE QU E T U M E LLEVABA S
[102]
I DREAM T
[103]
UNA NOCH E D E VERAN O
[104]
ONE SUMME R NIGH T
[105]
P R O V E R B I O S Y C A N T A R ES
i
Nunca persegui gloria
ni dejar en la memoria
de los hombres mi cancion;
yo amo los mundos sutiles,
ingravidos y gentiles
como pompa s de jabon.
Me gusta verlos pintarse
de sol y grana, volar
bajo e l cielo azul, tembla r
subitamente y quebrarse.
2
,jPara qu e llama r camino s
a los surcos del azar? . . .
Todo el que camina anda,
como Jesus, sobre el mar.
3
Can tad conmig o en coro: Saber , nada sabemos,
de arcano mar vinimos, a ignota mar iremos . . .
Y entre los dos misterios esta el enigma grave;
tres area s cierra un a desconocid a Have .
La luz nada ilumina y el sabio nada ensena.
(iQue dice la palabra? iQue e l agua d e la pena ?
[106]
FOURTEEN POEM S CHOSE N FRO M
'MORAL PROVERB S AN D FOL K SONGS "
i
I never wanted fame ,
nor wanted t o leave my poems
behind i n th e memor y of men.
I lov e the subtl e worlds,
delicate, almos t withou t weigh t
like soap bubbles.
I enjo y seein g them tak e the colo r
of sunlight and scarlet, float
in th e blu e sky , then
suddenly quiver and break.
2
Why shoul d w e call
these accidental furrow s roads ?
Everyone who moves on walks
like Jesus, on th e sea .
3
Let us sing together: know ? W e know nothing .
We come fro m a hidden ocean , and g o to an unknown ocean .
And betwee n those tw o mysteries there i s a third seriou s
puzzle;
one ke y we know nothing o f locks three chests.
The ligh t illuminate s nothing , an d the wise man teache s
nothing.
What doe s human languag e say ? What doe s th e water i n th e
rock say ?
[107]
4
jAh, cuando yo era nino
sonaba con lo s heroes de l a Iliada!
Ayax era mas fuerte qu e Diomedes,
Hector, mas fuerte qu e Ayax ,
y Aquiles el mas fuerte; porqu e er a
el ma s fuerte . . . jlnocencia s d e la infancia!
;Ah, cuando yo era nino
sonaba con los heroes de la Iliada !
5
Poned sobr e los campos
un carbonero , u n sabi o y un poeta .
Vereis como e l poeta admira y calla,
el sabio mira y piensa . . .
Seguramente, e l carbonero busc a
las moras o las setas.
Llevadlos al teatr o
y solo el carbonero n o bosteza.
Quien prefier e l o vivo a lo pintad o
es el hombre que piensa, canta o suefia.
El carbonero tien e
llena de fantasias l a cabeza.
6
Yo amo a Jesus, que no s dijo:
Cielo y tierra pasaran .
Cuando cielo y tierra pase n
mi palabra quedara.
<jCual fue , Jesus , tu palabra ?
,;Amor? ^Perdon ? ^Caridad ?
Todas tus palabras fueron
una palabra : Velad .
[108]
4
Oh, I daydreamed a s a boy
about th e heroe s of the Iliadl
Ajax wa s stronger tha n Diomedes ,
Hector stronge r tha n Ajax,
and Achille s strongest of all; becaus e
he was the strongest! . . . Innocent idea s of boyhoodl
Yes, I daydreame d as a boy
about the heroes of the Iliadl
5
Put ou t o n the fields
a physica l laborer, a thinker, an d a poet.
You will see how th e poe t i s enthusiastic
and silent, the thinker looks and thinks. ...
The labore r look s around, probably ,
for blackberrie s an d mushrooms .
Take them t o the theatre,
and onl y the laborer isn' t bored .
The on e who prefers wha t is alive
over what is made u p
is the perso n wh o writes, dreams, or sings.
The hea d of the physical labore r
is ful l o f fantasies .
6
I lov e Jesus, who said t o us:
Heaven an d eart h wil l pas s away .
When heaven an d eart h hav e passed away,
my word wil l remain .
What wa s your word , Jesus?
Love? Affection? Forgiveness ?
All you r word s wer e
one word : Wakeup .
[109]
7
Hay dos modos de conciencia:
una e s luz, y otra, paciencia.
Una estrib a e n alumbra r
un poquit o el hondo mar ;
otra, e n hace r penitencia
con cafi a o red, y esperar
el pez, como pescador.
Dime tii : <jCua l e s mejor?
(iConciencia de visionario
que mir a e n el hondo acuari o
peces vivos,
fugitives,
que n o s e pueden pescar ,
o es a maldita faen a
de i r arrojand o a la arena ,
muertos, la s peces del mar ?
8
Bueno e s saber qu e lo s vasos
nos sirven par a beber ;
lo malo es que n o sabemos
para qu e sirv e la sed.
9
(iDices qu e nad a s e crea?
No t e importe , co n e l barro
de la tierra, ha z una cop a
para qu e beba tu hermano .
10
(jDices qu e nad a s e crea?
Alfarero, a tu s cacharros .
Haz tu copa y no te import e
si no puedes hacer barro .
[no]
7
There are tw o sorts of consciousness:
one involves light, one patience.
One has to do with piercin g
the ocean a little with light ;
the other ha s more guilt—
with a net o r pole, on e waits
like a fisherman, fo r fish.
Tell me : Whic h i s better?
Religious consciousnes s
that see s in th e deep ocea n
fish alive,
going thei r way,
that wil l never b e caught?
Or thi s job I have , boring ,
picking fish from th e net
and throwing them on the sand, dead?
8
It i s good knowing that glasses
are t o drink from ;
the ba d thin g i s not t o know
what thirs t i s for.
9
You say nothing i s created new?
Don't worr y about it , wit h the mu d
of th e earth , mak e a cu p
from whic h your brothe r ca n drink .
10
You say nothing i s created new?
Potter, g o to you r shed .
Make your cup, an d don' t worr y
if yo u aren't able to mak e clay.
[111]
11
Todo pasa y todo queda,
pero l o nuestro es pasar,
pasar haciend o caminos ,
caminos sobre la mar .
12
Morir . . . ^Caer como gota
de mar e n el mar inmenso?
{O se r lo que nunc a h e sido:
uno, si n sombr a y sin sueno ,
un solitario que avanza
sin camin o y sin espejo?
13
Cuatro cosa s tiene e l hombr e
que n o sirven e n la mar:
ancla, gobernalle y remos,
y miedo de naufragar.
H
Ya hay un espano l que quier e
vivir y a vivir empieza,
entre un a Espafi a qu e muer e
y otra Espafi a qu e bosteza .
Espafiolito que vienes
al mundo, t e guarde Dios.
Una d e la s dos Espana s
ha de helart e el corazon.
[112]
11
All things die and all things live forever;
but ou r tas k is to die ,
to die making roads,
roads ove r th e sea.
12
To die . . . To fal l lik e a drop
of wate r into th e bi g ocean?
Or t o b e wha t I'v e neve r been :
a man without a shadow, without a dream,
a man all alone walking,
without a mirror, an d with no road ?
J
3
Mankind own s four thing s
that ar e no good a t sea:
rudder, anchor , oars ,
and th e fea r o f going down .
H
There i s a Spaniar d today , wh o want s
to live and i s starting t o live ,
between one Spai n dying
and anothe r Spai n yawning .
Little Spaniard just now coming
into the world, may God keep you.
One o f those tw o Spain s
will freez e you r heart .
["3]
A DO N F R A N C I S C O G I N E R D E LO S R f O S
Como s e fu e e l maestro ,
la lu z de est a maiiana
me dijo : Va n tre s dias
que m i hermano Francisc o n o trabaja .
dMurio? . . . Solo sabemos
que s e nos fue por un a send a clara,
diciendonos: Hacedm e
un duelo de labores y esperanzas.
Sed bueno s y n o mas , se d l o qu e h e sid o
entre vosotros: alma .
Vivid, l a vid a sigue ,
los muertos mueren y las sombras pasan;
lleva quien dej a y vive el que h a vivido.
jYunques, sonad; enmudeced, campanas!
["4]
FOR DO N FRANCISC O
G I N E R D E LO S RIO S
[H5]
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FROM
NEW P O E M S
(NUEVAS G A N C I O N E S )
!93°
THE C O L L E C T E D W O R K S O F A
POET WH O NEVE R LIVE D
(DE U N C A N C I O N E R O
APOCRIFO)
1931
WRITTEN 1936-3 9
["9]
instant b y instant, appear s unfolded , and wha t has led t o thi s
instant als o exists, though folde d up everywher e in space.
It is as if the past were folded up int o the outer world, which
Machado goes on strugglin g to see ; and h e suggests that i f the
human bein g does not lear n to see, he will remain a narcissist.
Machado mention s i n hi s new serie s of "Mora l Proverb s an d
Folk Songs " tha t w e are worse off now tha n i n th e nineteent h
century: th e narcissist at that time , associated with the dandy ,
obsessively looked int o a mirroring pon d t o see his face. Th e
modern narcissis t doesn't bothe r t o look i n th e pond, becaus e
he has replaced natur e wit h his own consciousness.
This Narcissus of ours
can't see his face in the mirror
because he has become the mirror.
Machado's discipline d effort s t o se e brin g man y origina l
details int o his grea t poe m "Passageways. " The inventio n o f
the stereoscop e excited him, an d i n "Passageways " he trie s t o
bring in bot h lobe s of the brain , a s we would sa y now, and b y
this doubl e presenc e create a three-dimensiona l vision. Hera -
clitus' prais e o f lightnin g come s u p i n th e thir d poem , an d
the myster y of the spectrum , of colors that unfold in a certai n
order, appears in the sixth poem of the series.
Machado wants in his new book first, to see the outer world ,
and, second, t o converse with "the othe r on e who walks by my
side." A s earl y a s 190 8 he ha d expresse d th e concep t o f th e
"other one" i n "Portrait."
I tal k alway s t o th e ma n wh o walks alon g with me.
In th e secon d serie s of "Mora l Proverb s an d Fol k Songs " h e
writes:
Look for your other half
who walks along next to you,
and tends to be what you aren't.
To find this one, we should loo k in the mirror, an d we will see
the othe r hal f of us looking back .
Now a wonderfully complicated ide a appears : th e more w e
[120]
try to see, th e mor e ou r "othe r eyes" can see us. The mor e we
try to see, the more we encourage th e "other eyes" to see us.
The eyes you're longing far-
listen now—
the eyes you see yourself in
are eyes because they see you.
This kin d o f seein g doe s no t mak e u s fee l self-conscious , a s
when w e imagine tha t othe r peopl e ar e looking a t us , but o n
the contrar y i t calms us down, make s us feel seen .
The eye you see is not
an eye because you see it;
it is an eye because it sees you.
[121]
in th e purit y o f non-existence. " Th e mediu m Michae l Mac -
Macha once said to me that this idea is the essence of the insani-
ty tha t th e Aryans brought dow n with the m fro m th e moun -
tains aroun d 150 0 B.C.—i n it s accen t o n purit y i t i s a littl e
insane. An d I lik e i t tha t Machad o when h e think s doe s no t
reject this philosophical problem passed on to us by the Aryan
past, but instea d takes it in his arms; one could say that if these
old problem s ar e ol d clothes, he washe s them. H e bring s th e
problems down to the river, and spends years washing them.
The washin g h e doe s i n tw o places : th e ne w serie s o f
"Moral Proverb s and Fol k Songs " ( I have translated fort y of
the ninety-nine in the series) and in the "Abel Martin " poems.
"Moral Proverbs an d Fol k Songs, " with swift thinkin g an d
elegant poetr y mingled , i s a genr e Machad o invented . Th e
genre derive s fro m fou r distinc t models. On e i s the popula r
Spanish copla , th e secon d the saying s of Pythagoras, the thir d
the Japanes e haiku , an d th e fourt h th e wisdo m quatrains of
Moslem an d Jewis h literature . Machad o refer s severa l time s
to Se m Tob, th e fourteenth-centur y doctor an d rabb i whose
book of seven hundred quatrain s he read. Machado points ou t
that not-thinking is no guarantee tha t you exist:
Now someone has come up with this:
Cogito ergo no n sum.
What an exaggeration!
But his late masterpieces are the "Abel Martin" poems . Abel
Martin, his invented poet-philosopher, helped him t o say cer-
tain things , an d h e compose d fo r Abe l Marti n a smal l boo k
of abou t sixt y pages , mad e u p o f literar y criticism , remem -
brances o f Martin b y his student Juan d e Mairena , poems by
both men , and commentary on the philosophical implications
of thes e poems . "I n th e theolog y o f Abe l Martin, " Mairen a
says, "God i s defined a s absolute Being, and therefor e nothing
which exist s could b e his work."
When th e i AM THA T i AM made nothing
and rested, which rest it certainly deserved,
[122]
night now accompanied day, and man
had his friend in the absence of the woman.
Nada, o r Pur e Nothing , Machad o imagine s in thi s poe m as
the zer o or empt y egg. Reason, which is able t o abstract, an d
so approach thi s empty circle, no w appears, or break s out, i n
man.
And the universal egg rose, empty,
pale, chill and not yet heavy with matter,
full of unweighable mist, in his hand.
Only the "standing animals" can see zero, and so only they are
capable of conceptual thought, on th e one hand, o r "olvido "
on th e other , whic h literall y means "forgetting," bu t whic h
implies letting something fall ou t o f the consciou s mind.
Since the wild animal's back is now your shoulder,
and since the miracle of not-being is finished,
start then, poet, a song at the edge of it all
to death, to silence, and to what does not return.
"Siesta," Juan de Mairena's elegy for Abel Martin, I think is
one of the most powerful brie f poems of the century. So much
of Machad o returns here: tim e passing returns a s the goldfish ,
the Roman an d Gree k past returns as Cupid, who "flie s away
in th e whit e stone," ar t tha t is accessible returns a s the ivor y
copla o f th e gree n cicada , an d God' s creatio n o f nothin g
returns as the siesta, which amounts to a short time of silence
in the midst of noise.
let us give honor to the Lord—
the black mark of his good hand—
who has arranged for silence in all this noise.
Faith doe s no t giv e birt h t o huma n thought , bu t huma n
thought is hidden insid e faith, as a sculpture is hidden insid e
a bloc k of stone.
Honor to the God of distance and of absence,
of the anchor in the sea—the open sea—
He frees us from the world—it's everywhere—
He opens roads for us to walk on.
[123]
Because "Ho y e s siempre todavia, " al l tha t ha s live d i s stil l
living. Machado is now i n hi s fifties, but hi s childhood is still
within him , perhap s even events that took place before h e was
born. I'll en d my commentary on his work with a memory he
let Juan de Mairena tell.
Another incident , als o important, too k plac e before I was born.
There were some dolphins who lost their way, and riding the tides ,
ascended th e Guadalquive r River , arrivin g a t leas t a s fa r u p a s
Seville. Peopl e cam e dow n t o th e rive r fro m al l ove r th e city ,
drawn b y th e extraordinar y sight , young girls, lovers, and amon g
them my parents, wh o wanted to see this sight they had never seen.
It wa s a brigh t afternoon . I recal l tha t afternoo n no w and the n
. . . or perhaps I imagined i t or dreamt it.
[»4]
NEW POEM S
THE C O L L E C T E D W O R K S O F A
i
En el azul la banda
de unos pajaros negros
que Chilian , aletean y se posan
en el alamo yerto.
. . . En el desnudo alamo,
las graves chovas quietas y en silencio,
cual negras, frias nota s
escritas en l a pauta d e febrero.
ii
El monte azul, el rio, la s erectas
varas cobrizas de los finos alamos,
y el bianco del almendro en la colina,
joh nieve en flor y mariposa en arbol!
Con el aroma del habar, el viento
corre en la alegre soledad del campo.
in
Una centella blanca
en la nube de plomo culebrea.
jLos asombrados ojos
del nino, y juntas cejas
—esta e l salon oscuro—de la madre l . . ,
;Oh cerrado balcon a la tormenta !
El viento aborrascado y el graniz o
en el limpio cristal repiquetean.
[126]
PASSAGEWAYS
i
Against the blu e sky,
birds, black, a flight—
they cry, wallop their wings, and settle
in a stark poplar .
. . . The sober jackdaws
motionless, silent, in the bare popla r
are col d blac k notes
copied out o n February staves.
z
The blu e mountain , the river, th e firm
coppery twigs on the slender poplars ,
and th e white of the almond tre e on the hill!
Oh snow in the blossom and the butterfly i n the tree !
Carrying the aroma of the bean fields, the wind
runs through the joyful solitud e of the fields!
3
A white lightning bol t
snakes down th e lead-colore d cloud .
The boy' s big startled
eyes—the room i s dark—
the mother's eyebrow s joining!
Oh balcony doors well closed to the storm!
The hars h wind gusts and th e grains of hail
drum again and again on the clean pane .
[127]
IV
El iri s y e l balcon .
Las siete cuerdas
de la lira de l sol vibran en suenos.
Un timpan o infanti l d a siete golpes
—agua y cristal—.
Acacias con jilguero s
Cigiienas e n la s torres .
En l a plaza,
lavo la lluvia el mirto polvoriento .
En el amplio rectangulo iquien puso
ese grupo de virgenes risueno,
y arriba jhosanna ! entre l a rota nube,
la palma de oro y el azu l sereno?
v
Entre montes de almagre y penas grises
el tren devor a s u rail d e acero .
La hiler a d e brillante s ventanilla s
lleva u n dobl e perfi l d e camafeo,
tras e l cristal d e plata, repetido . . .
(jQuien h a punzado el corazon del tiempo?
VI
[128]
4
The balcon y and the rainbow.
The sun' s lyre,
that ha s seven strings, resonates in dreams .
A childlike drum give s seven strokes-
rain and windowpane—
Acacias and finches.
Storks o n th e towers .
Rain falle n
in th e plaz a has washed the dust y myrtle trees.
And th e ampl e square—who has placed
there tha t smiling group o f virgins?
And higher up—hosanna!— a break in the clouds,
the palm branch o f gold and th e calm blue!
5
Going betwee n heaps of grey rocks and ochr e earth ,
the train eats up its steel rails.
The ro w of train window s that reflect sunlight
carries profiles, as on a cameo, but double ,
behind th e silver glass, more and more appear....
Who pierced the heart of time?
6
Who placed ther e among the cindery rocks,
for th e beehiv e of dreams,
these yellow furze blossoms ,
and thes e blue rosemarys?
Who painted th e mountains
violet, an d th e sky saffro n
far t o the west ? The hive , th e hermit's hut ,
the saddleback over the river, the eterna l
water soun d belo w th e hig h boulders ,
and th e lemony green of the new oats,
all of it—eve n th e ground whit e and ros y
around th e trun k o f th e almonds!
[129]
VII
En e l silencio sigu e
la lira pitagoric a vibrando ,
el iris e n l a luz, la lu z que llen a
mi estereoscopi o vano .
Han cegad o mi s ojo s la s cenizas
del fuego heraclitano .
El mundo es, un momento ,
transparente, vacio, ciego, alado.
M
7
The har p o f Pythagoras goes on
resonating in the silence,
the rainbow resonates in th e sunlight, the same light that
enters
the stereoscope I can't quit e master .
The ashe s lef t fro m Heraclitus '
fire have put ou t m y eyes.
The whol e world this instant
is transparent, empty, blind, flying.
[»3i]
IRIS D E L A NOCH E
A D . Ramo n de l Valle-Incla n
[!32]
RAINBOW A T NIGH T
l>33]
CANCIONES
i
Junto a l a sierr a florida ,
bulle el ancho mar.
El panal de mis abejas
tiene granite s d e sal.
ii
Junto a l agu a negra .
Olor de mar y jazmines.
Noche malaguena.
in
La primavera ha venido.
Nadie sab e como ha sido .
IV
La primavera ha venido.
[Aleluyas blancas
de los zarzales floridos!
v
jLuna llena, luna llena,
tan oronda , ta n redond a
en esta noche serena
de marzo , pana l d e lu z
que labra n blanca s abejas l
VI
Noche castellana;
la cancion se dice,
o, mejor, s e calla.
Cuando duerma n todos ,
saldre" a la ventana.
['34]
SONGS
i
The hug e sea drives
against the flowering mountain.
The comb of my honeybees
holds tiny grains of salt.
ii
Not fa r fro m th e blac k water.
Odor o f the se a and o f jasmine flowers.
Night o f Malaga .
in
The sprin g has arrived.
No one knows what happened .
IV
The sprin g has arrived.
Snow-white hallelujah s
from th e flowering blackberry bushes l
v
Full moon , ful l moon ,
so great, so round
in thi s tranquil nigh t
of March , honeycomb of ligh t
that th e white bees have madel
VI
Night o f Castille ;
the poe m i s spoken,
or, better, no t spoken .
When everyon e is sleeping,
I'll g o to the window.
[i35]
VII
Canta, canta en claro rimo,
el almendro en verde rama
y el doble sauce del rio.
Y este olor
que arranc a e l viento mojado
a lo s habares en flor .
VIII
La fuent e y las cuatro
acacias e n flo r
de l a plazoleta.
Ya no quema el sol.
[Tardecita alegre !
Canta, ruisenor .
Es la misma hora
de mi corazon.
IX
i Blanca hospederia,
celda d e viajero,
con l a sombra mia !
x
El acueducto roman o
— cant a un a vo z d e m i tierr a
y e l querer qu e no s tenemos ,
chiquilla, jvay a firmeza!
[136]
VII
Sing, sing in crisp sound
the almond tre e leafed out ,
and th e doubl e willow s by th e river .
VIII
The fountai n and th e four
acacias in flower
in th e garden .
The su n doesn't burn now.
Wonderful dusk !
Nightingale, sing .
The sam e hour ha s come
inside m y body.
IX
White inn ,
the traveler' s room ,
with m y shadow!
x
"The Roma n aqueduct "
—murmurs a voice in m y dialect—
"and th e lov e w e have fo r eac h other ,
my darling , ther e i s steadiness! "
[^37]
XI
A las palabras de amor
les sienta bien s u poquit o
de exageracion.
XII
En Santo Domingo,
la mis a mayor.
Aunque me declan
hereje y mason,
rezando contigo,
jcuanta devocion!
XIII
Hay fiesta en el prado verde
— pifan o y tambo r — .
Con s u cayado florid o
y abarca s de or o vin o u n pastor .
Ronco de cantar:
al huerto vendra la nina
y una ros a cortara.
Por e l encinar ,
con la blanca luna ,
ella volvera.
[138]
XI
In word s of love
a tin y bi t o f exaggeratio n
feels right .
XII
High mass
in Sant o Domingo .
Though the y call m e
heretic an d Mason ,
praying with you,
what devotion !
XIII
There i s a fiest a i n th e gree n fiel d
—fife an d drum .
With his flowery shepherd croo k
and gold sandal s a shepherd came.
There is a nightingal e
in th e garden trees ;
it sings night and day,
it sings to the moon an d the sun.
Hoarse fro m singing , i t sings;
the gir l wil l com e t o th e garde n
and pic k a rose.
xv
Mientras danzai s e n corro ,
nifias, cantad :
Ya estan los prados verdes,
ya vino abril galan.
A la orilla de l rio,
por e l negro encinar ,
sus abarcas de plata
hemos vist o brillar.
Ya esta n los prados verdes ,
ya vin o abri l galan .
[140]
XIV
With yo u i n Valonsadero ,
fiesta of St . John ,
tomorrow to Argentina
on th e othe r sid e o£ the sea.
Keep believing in me ,
for I will return .
xv
While yo u ar e dancin g i n a ring ,
girls, sing:
Now th e fields are green ,
now bonny April has come.
[i4i]
PROVERBIOSY CANTARE S
I
El ojo que ve s no es
ojo porque tv i l o veas;
es ojo porque t e ve.
ii
Para dialogar ,
preguntad primero ;
despue"s . . . escuchad.
in
Todo narcisismo
es un vici o feo,
y ya viejo vicio.
IV
Mas busca en t u espej o al otro,
al otro que v a contigo.
v
Entre el vivir y el sonar
hay una tercer a cosa.
Adivinala.
VI
Ese tu Narciso
ya no s e ve en e l espejo
porque e s el espejo mismo.
[i4»]
FORTY POEMS CHOSEN
FROM "MORAL PROVERBS
AND FOLK SONGS"
Dedicated t o Jose Ortega y Gasset
i
The ey e you see is not
an ey e because yo u se e it ;
it i s an eye because it sees you.
ii
To tal k with someone ,
ask a question first ,
then—listen.
in
Narcissism
is an ugl y fault,
and no w it's a boring faul t too .
IV
But look in your mirror for the other one,
the othe r on e who walks by your side .
v
Between livin g an d dreamin g
there is a third thing .
Guess it .
VI
This Narcissus of ours
can't see his face i n th e mirror
because he has become th e mirror.
[M3]
VII
iSiglo nuevo? <;Todavia
llamea l a misma fragua ?
(jCorre todavi a e l agu a
por e l cauce que tenia ?
VIII
Hoy e s siempre todavia.
IX
Sol en Aries. Mi ventana
esta abierta al aire frio.
— jO h rumo r d e agu a lejana ! —
La tarde despierta a l rio .
x
En el viejo caserio
— jo h anchas torres con cigiiefias ! — ,
enmudece e l son gregario,
y en e l campo solitario
suena e l agua entr e la s penas.
XI
Como otr a vez , mi atencio n
esta del agua cautiva;
pero de l agu a e n l a viva
roca d e mi corazon.
XII
(jSabes, cuand o e l agua suena,
si es agua de cumbre o valle,
de plaza, jardin o huerta?
XIII
Encuentro l o que n o busco:
las hojas del toronji l
huelen a limon maduro .
I>44]
VII
New century ? Still
firing up th e same forge ?
Is th e wate r stil l goin g alon g i n it s bed ?
VIII
Every instant is Still.
IX
The su n in Aries. My window
is open to the cool air.
Oh th e soun d o f the wate r far off !
The evenin g awakens the river .
x
In th e ol d farmhous e
—a high towe r with storks!—
the gregarious sound fall s silent,
and i n th e field where no on e is,
water makes a sound among the rocks.
XI
Just as before, I'm intereste d
in water held in ;
but no w water in the living
rock o f my chest.
XII
When yo u hear water, does its sound tel l you
if it' s from mountai n o r farm,
city street, formal garden, o r orchard ?
XIII
What I find surprises me:
leaves o f th e garde n bal m
smell o f lemonwood .
[*45]
XIV
Nunca traces tu frontera,
ni cuides de tu perfil ;
todo es o es cosa de fuera .
xv
Busca a t u complementario ,
que march a siempr e contigo,
y suele ser tu contrario .
XVI
Si vino la primavera,
volad a las flores;
no chup& s cera .
XVII
En mi soledad
he visto cosas muy claras,
que n o son verdad.
XVIII
Buena es el agua y la sed ;
buena e s la sombra y el sol;
la miel de flor de romero,
la miel de campo sin flor.
XIX
Solo quede un simbolo :
quod elixum est ne asato.
No aseis lo que esta cocido.
XX
Canta, canta, canta,
junto a su tomate,
el grillo en s u jaula.
[146]
XIV
Don't trac e ou t you r profile,
forget you r sid e view-
all tha t i s outer stuff .
xv
Look fo r your other half
who walks always next t o you
and tend s to be what you aren't.
XVI
When sprin g comes,
go to the flowers -
why keep on sucking wax?
XVII
In m y solitude
I have seen things very clearly
that wer e not true .
XVIII
Water i s good, s o is thirst;
shadow is good, so is sun;
the honey from th e rosemarys
and th e honey of the bare fields.
XIX
Only one creed stands :
quod elixum est ne asato.
Don't roas t what's already boiled .
xx
Sing on, sing on, sing on,
the cricket in his cage
near his darling tomato .
['471
XXI
Despacito y buena letra:
el hacer la s cosas bien
importa ma s que e l hacerlas.
XXII
Sin embargo . . .
[Ah!, si n embargo ,
importa aviva r lo s remos,
dijo e l caracol a l galgo.
XXIII
[Ya ha y hombres activos!
Sonaba l a charca
con sus mosquitos.
XXIV
Despertad, cantores:
acaben los ecos,
empiecen las voces.
xxv
Mas no busque"i s disonancias;
porque, a l fin, nada disuena ,
siempre al son que toca n bailan.
XXVI
No e s el y o fundamental
eso que busc a el poeta,
sino el tu esencial .
XXVII
Los ojos po r qu e suspiras ,
sdbelo bien,
los ojos en que t e miras
son ojos porqu e t e ven.
[148]
XXI
Form you r letter s slowl y and well :
making things well
is more important tha n making them.
XXII
All th e same . . .
Ah yes ! All th e same ,
moving the leg s fast i s important ,
as th e snai l sai d t o th e greyhound .
XXIII
There are really men o f action now!
The mars h was dreaming
of it s mosquitoes.
XXIV
Wake up , yo u poets :
let echoe s end,
and voice s begin.
XXV
But don't hunt fo r dissonance;
because, in th e end, ther e is no dissonance .
When th e sound i s heard peopl e dance .
XXVI
What th e poe t i s searching fo r
is not th e fundamental I
but th e deep you.
XXVII
The eye s you're longin g for —
listen now —
the eye s you se e yourself in
are eye s because they see you.
[»49]
XXVIII
Tras el vivir y el sonar,
esta lo que mas importa:
despertar.
XXIX
Ya hubo quien penso:
cogito ergo non sum.
I Que exageracion!
XXX
Crei mi hoga r apagado ,
y revolvi la ceniza . . .
Me queme la mano.
XXXI
Poned atencion :
un coraz6n solitario
no es un coraz6n .
XXXII
Lo ha visto pasar en suenos . . .
Buen cazador de si mismo,
siempre e n acecho.
XXXIII
Cazo a su hombre malo,
el de lo s dias azules,
siempre cabizbajo.
xxxiv
Mas no t e importe s i rueda
y pasa de mano en mano:
del oro se hace moneda.
[150]
XXVIII
Beyond livin g an d dreamin g
there i s something mor e important :
waking up.
XXIX
Now someone has come up with this!
Cogito ergo non sum.
What a n exaggeration !
XXX
I though t m y fire was out,
and stirre d th e ashes. . . .
I burn t m y fingers .
XXXI
Pay attention now :
a heart that' s al l by itself
is not a heart.
XXXII
I've caugh t a glimpse of him i n dreams :
expert hunte r o f himself,
every minute in ambush.
XXXIII
He caugh t his bad man :
the on e who on sunny days
walks with head down.
XXXIV
If a poem become s common,
passed around, hand to hand, it' s OK:
gold i s chosen fo r coins .
[151]
XXXV
Si vivir e s bueno,
es mejor sonar ,
y mejor qu e todo ,
madre, despertar .
xxxvi
No e l sol, sino la campana,
cuando t e despierta, es
lo mejor de la manana .
XXXVII
Entre la s brevas so y blando;
entre la s rocas, de piedra .
[Malo!
XXXVIII
Tengo a mi s amigo s
en mi soledad ;
cuando esto y con ello s
ique lejos estan !
XXXIX
Tu profecia , poeta .
—Manana hablara n lo s mudos:
el corazo n y la piedra .
XL
—<j Mas el arte? . ..
—Es pur o juego ,
que e s igual a pura vida,
que e s igual a puro fuego ,
Vereis el ascua encendida .
[152]
XXXV
If it' s goo d t o live ,
then it' s bette r t o be asleep dreaming,
and bes t of all ,
mother, i s to awake.
xxxvi
Sunlight i s good for waking,
but I prefe r bells —
the best thing about morning .
XXXVII
Among the figs I am soft ,
Among the rocks I am hard .
That's bad !
XXXVIII
When I am alone
how close my friends are ;
when I am with the m
how distant the y are !
XXXIX
Now, poet , you r prophecy?
"Tomorrow what is dumb will speak,
the human hear t an d th e stone. "
XL
But art?
It i s pure an d intens e play ,
so it is like pure an d intens e life ,
so it i s like pure an d intens e fire.
You'll se e the coa l burning .
t'53]
AL GRA N CER O
t'54]
TO TH E GREA T CIRCL E O F N O T H I N G
[155]
0LTIMAS LAMENTACIONE S D E
ABEL MARTI N
(Cancionero apocrifo)
Hoy, co n la primavera ,
son£ que u n fino cuerpo m e seguf a
cual docil sombra. Era
mi cuerpo juvenil , e l que subi a
de tre s en tre s peldano s la escalera.
—Hola, galg o de ayer . (Su luz de acuario
trocaba e l hondo espej o
por agria luz sobre u n rinco n de osario. )
—£Tu conmigo , rapaz ?
—Contigo, viejo .
Sone l a galeri a
al huerto d e cipres y limonero;
tibias paloma s e n l a piedr a fria ,
en e l cielo de ani l roj o pandero .
y en la magica angustia de la infanci a
la vigili a de l ange l ma s austero .
La ausenci a y la distanci a
volvi a sonar co n tunica s de aurora ;
firme e n e l arco tens o l a saeta
del mafiana , l a vista aterrador a
de la llama prendida en la espoleta
de su granada.
jOh Tiempo , o h Todavia
prefiado d e inminencias !
Tu m e acompanas e n l a send a fria ,
tejedor d e esperanza s e impaciencias .
[»56]
ABEL M A R T I N ' S LAS T L A M E N T A T I O N S
Today it wa s spring;
I dream t tha t a slender bod y followe d me
like an obedien t shadow . It was
my boyish body, the on e who used to leap
the stairs three at a time.
"Hello there , ol d runner!" (Th e dee p mirror
altered th e aquariu m ligh t
to a harsh light ove r th e bone yard.)
"Are yo u with me, speedy?"
"With you, old man. "
Then I seemed to see the rows
of cypres s and lemo n tree s in th e garden ;
chill cobblestone s with war m pigeons,
and th e red kit e high in th e blu e sky,
and som e stern angel wh o watched
over th e magi c anguish of childhood .
Everything distan t an d disappeare d
came back , as I dreamed, as fresh a s dawn;
in th e bo w drawn back , firm, the arrow
of tomorrow , th e terrifyin g sigh t
of th e flam e that i s moving in th e fus e
toward it s charge. . . .
Oh Time, the past still present,
pregnant wit h al l abou t t o come ,
you wal k with me o n th e cold path ,
weaver o f th e thread s of hope an d impatience !
[i57]
Hoy, como un dia , en la ancha mar violet a
hunde e l sueno su petrea escalinata,
y hace camino l a infanti l goleta,
y le salta el delfin d e bronc e y plata.
La hazan a y la aventur a
cercando un corazon entelerid o . . .
Monies de piedra dur a
—eco y eco—mi voz ban repetido .
[158]
Today as once before, the dream lets down its stone
stairs into the deep and violet ocean,
and th e child' s sailboat makes its way
as the dolphin of silver and bronz e leaps out.
[159]
SIESTA
[160]
SIESTA
[161]
LA MUERT E DE L NIN O HERID O
[i6s]
THE DEAT H O F TH E WOUNDE D CHIL D
[163]
COPLAS
En lo s yermos altos
veo unos chopos de fri o
y un camin o bianco .
En aquella piedr a
(jtierras d e la luna!)
<madie lo recuerda?
Azotan el limona r
las rafagas d e febrero.
No duermo por no sonar .
[164]
COPLAS
In th e hig h wildernes s
I se e some cold poplar s
and a white road .
[165]
MEDITACI6N DE L Df A
[166]
TODAY'S M E D I T A T I O N
[167]
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AFTERWORD
A N H O M A G E T O M A C H A D O I N 19 6 6
[169]
cars go through, at least in the beginning, though not without
noting dow n th e licens e numbers. Man y people walke d into
town from tha t spot later, when private cars were halted .
Under thes e circumstance s some 2,50 0 peopl e arrive d i n
Baeza on the twentieth, not counting another large group that
did no t succee d i n breakin g throug h th e polic e line . Th e
daily paper Jaen declared : "Today Baez a will render a n hom-
age t o Machado. " Th e crow d o f peopl e move d ou t o f tow n
toward th e are a o f th e monument . Th e lin e wa s long an d
silent, but th e mood was a mood o f affection an d camaraderi e
among the admirers of the poet. Shortly before the line arrived
at the spot , some Armed Polic e (popularl y called "th e Greys "
because o f thei r uniform ) appeare d an d blocke d th e road .
Several participants walked forward t o ask for an explanation ,
which the police refused. A lieutenant arrived, and soon police
reinforcements. Ther e was great tension . Th e polic e lieuten -
ant sai d flatly that th e gatherin g wa s canceled, and tha t the y
had order s t o kee p peopl e awa y fro m th e plac e i n question .
He sai d h e di d no t kno w the reason s why. He wa s asked t o
make known t o some authority—the mayo r of the cit y or th e
governor o f th e province—th e unanimou s desir e o f thos e
present tha t som e explanatio n b e give n the m fo r wha t was
taking place . Th e lieutenan t refuse d thi s an d threatene d t o
charge th e group. Thos e present pressed together in lines and
made know n thei r decisio n t o wai t ther e fo r th e arriva l o f
someone in powe r wh o would give them a good explanation .
The effor t thes e people ha d gon e throug h t o get here, man y
from place s fa r away, should not b e made to end i n a simple
return home under th e arbitrary order of some member of the
state police or an officia l o f the constabulary.
The lieutenan t too k a ste p backwar d an d ble w a whistle .
The polic e dre w u p i n line s an d too k ou t thei r clubs . Th e
lieutenant rea d a paragrap h referrin g t o "violation s o f th e
laws of Public Order " and announce d tha t a t th e third blo w
of th e whistle , th e polic e "woul d charge " agains t person s
present. Thos e present linke d arm s tightly , prepared t o hol d
[170]
to thei r decisio n to wait for a decen t explanation o f the can -
cellation.
The charg e began . Th e Grey s hel d bac k a moment . Th e
officer dre w hi s pisto l an d shouted , "Charge ! Charge! " A
policeman, als o fro m th e Political-Socia l Brigade, wave d his
pistol as if he were fencing, furious, absolutely out o f his mind.
"Charge! Charge! "
From the n o n i t wa s brutality an d violence . Th e crow d
cried: "Murderer ! Murderer! " Man y fel l dow n unde r th e
blows. Groans , cries ; youn g peopl e sobbe d wit h fear . Th e
Greys savagel y pursued th e fe w people wh o ran i n th e first
moments, an d continue d t o bea t thos e who remained stand -
ing, bot h thos e facin g th e polic e an d thos e tryin g t o hel p
others on the ground .
The larg e mas s of people, afte r returnin g tw o kilometers ,
back to town, filed into the mai n plaz a of Baeza in a mood of
rage, exasperation and fear . Some took shelter in bars or caf£s ,
from whic h th e polic e expelle d the m b y force , bac k t o th e
street, where they were met with more violence; blows, insults
and various indignities. Man y arrests took place and the track-
ing began—the pursuit of people into every nook of town: new
arrests an d high-handedness .
The tow n watched this sight astonished. "Get t o your cars!"
the Grey s shouted, pushing heavily against anyone and every -
one. Th e deputie s from th e Politica l Socia l Brigade assiste d
them on all sides . Those who had no car s to leave town with
were thwacked , chased, hunte d int o an y shelter the y coul d
take. A long parade of cars fled by all the highways leading out,
and thos e who arrive d i n Ubed a ( a nearby town ) could se e
the officer s i n the Guardia Civi l barracks waiting for the order
to go to Baeza.
This is what happened t o the homage for Antonio Machado
in Baez a the aot h of February 1966 .
Twenty-seven peopl e wer e arrested , amon g the m Jos £
Moreno Galva n (autho r o f th e articl e mentione d above) ;
Pedro Cab a (doctor) ; Eduard o Urcul o (painter) ; Manue l
[^1]
Aguilar (publisher) ; Robert o Pui g (architect) ; Cortij o
(painter); Ripolle s (painter) ; Alfred o Flore s (lawyer) ; J. A .
Ramos Herran z (engineer) ; Pedro Dicent a (teacher) ; Carlo s
Alvarez (poet) , etc.
Of th e twenty-seve n arrested , sixtee n wer e release d jus t
before dawn. Eleven remained i n jail, and wer e taken t o Jae"n
and released there the next day, after the y had paid fines vary-
ing according to th e cas e from 5,00 0 pesetas to 10,000 , 15,00 0
and 25,00 0 pesetas.
The repor t o f an eyewitness
Translated fro m th e Spanish by Robert Ely
[172]
TRANSLATIONS O F MACHAD O
AVAILABLE I N ENGLIS H
[173]
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Robert El y i s th e autho r o f te n book s o f poetry .
Antonio Machad o wa s a stron g influenc e o n hi s firs t
book o f poetry , Silence i n th e Snowy Fields. Ely ha s
edited an d translate d works of Swedish, German, Nor -
wegian, an d Persia n poetry , including tha t of Neruba
and Rilke . He receive d the Nationa l Boo k Award for
poetry in 1968 . His home is in Moose Lake, Minnesota.