Antonio Machado

“But don't hunt for dissonance:There is no such thing;People dance to all tunes.”

“Mataron a Federico cuando la luz asomaba. / El pelotón de verdugos no osó mirarle la casra. / Todos cerraron los ojos; / rezaron: ¡ni Dios te salva! / Muerto cayó Federico / -sangre en la frente y plomo en las entrañas- / Que fue en Granada el crimen / sabed -¡pobre Granada-, en su Granada”

“Death is something we shouldn't fear because, while we are, death isn't, and when death is, we aren't.”

“Todo pasa y todo queda, / Pero lo nuestro es pasar, / Pasar haciendo caminos,/ Caminos sobre el mar.”

“I thought my fireplace dead and stirred the ashes. I burned my fingers.”

“Anoche cuando dormíaAnoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que una fontana fluíadentro de mi corazòn.Di: ¿por qué acequia escondida,agua, vienes hasta mí,manantial de nueva vidaen donde nunca bebí?Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que una colmena teníadentro de mi corazòn;y las doradas abejasiban fabricando en él,con las amarguras viejas,blanca cera y dulce miel.Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que un sol ardiente lucíadentro de mi corazòn.Era ardiente porque dabacalores de rojo hogar,y era sol porque alumbrabay porque hacía llorar.Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que era Dios lo que teníadentro de mi corazòn.”

“Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que una fontana fluíadentro de mi corazòn.Di: ¿por qué acequia escondida,agua, vienes hasta mí,manantial de nueva vidaen donde nunca bebí?Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que una colmena teníadentro de mi corazòn;y las doradas abejasiban fabricando en él,con las amarguras viejas,blanca cera y dulce miel.Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que un sol ardiente lucíadentro de mi corazòn.Era ardiente porque dabacalores de rojo hogar,y era sol porque alumbrabay porque hacía llorar.Anoche cuando dormíasoñé, ¡bendita ilusiòn!,que era Dios lo que teníadentro de mi corazòn.”

“The wind, one brilliant day, calledto my soul with an odor of jasmine."In return for the odor of my jasmine,I'd like all the odor of your roses.""I have no roses; all the flowersin my garden are dead.""Well then, I'll take the withered petalsand the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?”

“Has my heart gone to sleep?Have the beehives of my dreamsstopped working, the waterwheelof the mind run dry,scoops turning empty,only shadow inside?No, my heart is not asleep.It is awake, wide awake.Not asleep, not dreaming—its eyes are opened widewatching distant signals, listeningon the rim of vast silence”

“Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.”

“I’ve caught a glimpse of him in dreams:expert hunter of himself,every minute in ambush.”

“Don't try to rush things: for the cup to run over, it must first be filled.”

“Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace "Camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.”

“Caminante, no hay camino. Se hace camino al andar.(Walker, there is no road. The road is made as you walk.)”

“XXIXTraveler, there is no path.The path is made by walking.Traveller, the path is your tracksAnd nothing more.Traveller, there is no pathThe path is made by walking.By walking you make a pathAnd turning, you look backAt a way you will never tread againTraveller, there is no road Only wakes in the sea.”

“Hoy es siempre todavía.”

“Mankind owns four thingsThat are no good at sea:Rudder, anchor, oars,And the fear of going down.”

“Caminante son tus huellasEl camino nada más;caminante no hay caminose hace camino al andar.”

“In order to write poetry, you must first invent a poet who will write it.”

“My philosophy is fundamentally sad, but I’m not a sad man, and I don’t believe I sadden anyone else. In other words, the fact that I don’t put my philosophy into practice saves me from its evil spell, or, rather, my faith in the human race is stronger then my intellectual analysis of it; there lies the fountain of youth in which my heart is continually bathing.”

“Last night, as I was sleeping,I dreamt - marvellous error! -that I had a beehivehere inside my heart.And the golden beeswere making white combsand sweet honeyfrom my old failures.”

“I.Don't trace out your profile--forget your side view--all that is outer stuff.II.Look for your other halfwho walks always next to youand tends to be who you aren't.”

“Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking.”

“Españolito que vienesal mundo te guarde Dios.Una de las dos Españasha de helarte el corazón.”

“Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt --O, marvelous error -- That there was a beehive here inside my heartAnd the golden bees were making white combsAnd sweet honey from all my failures.”

“Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road-- Only wakes upon the sea.Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.”