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Last Night/Is My Soul
Asleep?
Asleep?
Last night as I was sleeping
I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a spring breaking out in my
heart.
I said, "Along what secret aqueduct are you coming to me
Oh water,
water of a new life that I have never drunk."
Last night as I was
sleeping I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a beehive here in 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 a marvelous
illusion
that there was a fiery sun here in my heart.
It was fiery because
it gave warmth as if from a hearth
And it was sun because it gave light and
brought tears to my eyes.
Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt a
marvelous illusion
that there was God here in my heart.
I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a spring breaking out in my
heart.
I said, "Along what secret aqueduct are you coming to me
Oh water,
water of a new life that I have never drunk."
Last night as I was
sleeping I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a beehive here in 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 a marvelous
illusion
that there was a fiery sun here in my heart.
It was fiery because
it gave warmth as if from a hearth
And it was sun because it gave light and
brought tears to my eyes.
Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt a
marvelous illusion
that there was God here in my heart.
God, is my soul
asleep?
Have those beehives who labor by night stopped, and
the water
wheel of thought, is it dry?
The cup's empty, wheeling out carrying only
shadows?
No! My soul is not asleep! My soul is not asleep!
It
neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its clear eyes open,
far off things,
and listens, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.
It listens at
the shores of the great silence.
asleep?
Have those beehives who labor by night stopped, and
the water
wheel of thought, is it dry?
The cup's empty, wheeling out carrying only
shadows?
No! My soul is not asleep! My soul is not asleep!
It
neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its clear eyes open,
far off things,
and listens, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.
It listens at
the shores of the great silence.
~
Machado, Antonio
1875–1939, Spanish poet of the Generation of '98. He spent most of his life in Castile and his best poetry was influenced by its sober and dramatic landscape. His Poesías completas appeared in 1936. Forced to leave Spain because of his support of the
Loyalist cause during the Spanish civil war, he crossed the Pyrenees on
foot and died in France a month later. With his brother, the poet
Manuel Machado (1874–1947),
he also wrote plays and translated
Rostand's L'Aiglon and Hugo's Hernani. ~
Rostand's L'Aiglon and Hugo's Hernani. ~
(The Winged Energy of
Delight, translations by Robert Bly)
Delight, translations by Robert Bly)
