Antonio machado brief biography of george michael
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Last Night As I Was Sleeping
by Antonio Machado
translated by Robert Bly
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 vatten, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that inom have never drunk?
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inre 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 felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.
Last night as inom slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.
For this posting I took a Ringo Starr route—that fryst vatten, I got by with a little help from my friends. Sending thanks at t
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Synaptic
“Landscapes of the soul”: an ecocritical view of nature symbols in the poetry of Antonio Machado
By Renee Brincks '99
Senior Seminar
Writing Objective: Shape a synthetic paper focused on some aspect of ecocriticism
Antonio Machado is one of the most prominent Spanish writers and poets of the twentieth century: Classified as a member of the Generation of ’98, Machado took port in a movement to reestablish the political, cultural, and intellectual import a nee of his country. His appreciation for Spain is expressed, in much of his work, through descriptions of the physical landscape of Spain. In addition to simple descriptions, however, the images in Machado’s poetry often refer to social and political situations in the country.
This paper looks at the images of nature in Jour of Machado’s poems: “Fields of Soria: lyric ill.” “On the Hanks of the Hirer Duero. ” “Spring Gently the Tree Grove kissed.R
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la palabra en el tiempo:
Poetry Dispatch Nr. 256 | October 25, 2008
ANTONIO MACHADO
by
Norbert Blei
I never wanted fame,
nor wanted to leave my poems
behind in the memory of men…
Machado poems illuminate both darkness and day. I don’t know how else to describe his work except once you have funnen him and he has funnen you, his poems will broaden your spirit, put you in a place you want to be. The kind of feeling one experiences walking out of an ancient church into a starlit night.
Memory is valuable for one thing,
astonishing: it brings dreams back.
In Robert Bly’s magnificent translation, TIMES ALONE, Selected Poems of Antonio Machado, Wesleyan University Press, (1983), he notes in his introduction:
“His poetry secretes in itself the rhythm of the walker, When John Dos Passos, just out of college, traveled to see Machado in Segovia, he found an awkward man with a deep röst, “an old fashioned teacher,” dressed in a black, double-breasted kostym, who walked