#antonio machado

[ardent-reflections]

A heart is made mature by darkness and art.

Antonio Machado

#antonio machado #literature #poetry #poem #poems and quotes #spilled thoughts #words #quotes #lit #spilled words #spilled poetry #spilled writing #spilled ink #spilled prose #prose #short poetry #poems #poetic

[besos-y-lagrimas]

#escritos #citas en español #libros #amor #citas de amor #sentimientos #vida #poesía #corazon #milagros #primavera #esperanza #antonio machado #desamor

[desorden-en-letras]

Antonio Machado

Frasess.net

#desorden en letras #mabel #antonio machado #pub 16 #frases #escritos #letras #pensamientos #textos #sentimientos #citas en español #textos en español #enero2024 #citas #notas #quotes en español #quotes en tumblr #imágenes

[megairea]

And he was the demon of my dreams, the most handsome of all angels.

Antonio Machado, from “And he was the demon” (tr. by Robert Bly)

Erica Jong, from Lullaby for a Dybbuk

Rosalía de Castro, from “With his wave's soft persistent whisper” (tr. by Anna-Marie Aldaz, Barbara N. Gantt, Anne C. Bromley)

#compilation #erica jong #Antonio Machado #Rosalia de Castro

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Mt. Fuji (via orange_kuma)

* * * *

The Way

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.

-Antonio Machado

#Mr. Fuji #Antonio Machado #The Way #poem #poetry #wanderer

[vampire-yearner]

some pages from Antonio Machado's (1875-1939) journal/commonplace book

#notebooks #journals #handwriting #journaling #old journals #antonio machado

[liquidlightandrunningtrees]

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

Antonio Machado

#quote #antonio machado #wind #brilliant #soul #odor #jasmine #quotes

[kamas-corner]

#antonio machado #frases #escritos #pensamientos #fragmentos #poesia #literatura #escritores #libros #poemas #literatura universal

[lascitasdelashoras]

Manuscrito de Antonio Machado

#antonio machado #poesia #poetas #manuscritos

[somehow---here]

Mai cercai la gloria,

né di lasciare alla memoria

degli uomini il mio canto,

io amo i mondi delicati,

lievi e gentili,

come bolle di sapone.

Antonio Machado, versi estratti da Viandante

#antonio machado #poesia

[ma-pi-ma]

No, che non dorme il mio cuore. È ben desto il cuore, è desto. Non dorme né sogna: è intento, aperti gli acuti occhi, a lontani segni ascolta agli orli del gran silenzio.

Antonio Machado

#antonio machado

[dk-thrive]

Is my soul asleep?

Is my soul asleep? Have those beehives that work in the night stopped? And the water- wheel of thought, is it going around now, cups empty, carrying only shadows? No, my soul is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its eyes wide open far-off things, and listens at the shores of the great silence.

— Antonio Machado, "Is My Soul Asleep?" Translated by Robert Bly. The Soul Is Here for Its Own Joy Sacred Poems from Many Cultures.  (Ecco; July 9, 1999)

#Antonio Machado #Robert Bly #soul #sleep #asleep #silence #weekend

[megairea]

[…] sonorous fountain, eternal singer of the sleeping garden.

Antonio Machado, from “It was a clear evening” (tr. by Betty Jean Craige)

#antonio machado #spanish literature #poetry #literature

[dreams-of-mutiny]

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.

— Antonio Machado

#quotes #poems #antonio machado

[raiquen]

Book Review: Antonio Machado. Selection of poems by Jesús García Sánchez.

I don't think I have the academic formation for a deep contemplation and careful appreciation of poetry, and I have read very little poetry before, but by the end of the book, I believe I reached a faint understanding of Machado and his life as a spanish poet at the turn of the 20th century.

Some of the most recurring themes I noted on this selection that include his most famous works and cover 40 years of his writing are the captivating spirit of nature, the inevitable passage of time, the yearn and love for youthness, the evergreen presence of Death and the war that ravaged Spain.

These two poems share the themes of nature (particularly, of Spring as a rejuvenating force) and the yearn of youthness. In both, the author gazes at the landscape around him as Spring turns everything green and new and alive. His train of thought is suddenly interrumped by the realization that his youth is gone, that life has passed. The key difference between them is the hopeful note the left poem ends with:

"— Oh, how late for my own joy! — And then, walking, like one who feels wings of another illusion: — And yet I'll reach my youth one day!"

Machado seems to understand youthness as a state of mind, as a quality one can cultivate or achieve rather than just an age. But then, on the second poem:

"Under that blossomed almond tree heavy with flowers — I remembered—, I've cursed my youth without love. Today, halfway through my life I've stopped to meditate... Youth never lived, who could dream you again!"

Then, maybe, love is what give us the will of living and youthfulness that pushes us through life.

On that vein, Machado says in one of his Proverbs:

"Words of love fit nicely in a little bit of exaggeration"

But Machado stares a lot at Death too. It creeps and pops up randomly through his verses, maybe suddenly faced by the mortality of his life by the War or the passing of a person close to him.

On the first poem, Machado dreams with a demon, who appears before him as the most beautiful angel, their eyes with a glowing heat of steel, the bleeding flames of their torch pushing the shadows of his soul. Machado is forced to accompany the angel and enter his own soul, ressembling a crypt, where he hears chains and caged beasts.

On the second poem, Machado writes about the death of another poet, Federíco García Lorca, murdered by order of Valdes because of his political views and his alleged homosexuality. But Federico walks with Her, Death, like if she were a muse, mourning about what's happening in Granada. In the poem, Federico even seems to pity Death, bowing to help her and restore her flesh, her eyes, her hair, her lips, singing them to her, as if thanking her for giving him edge to his poetry with her scythe and coldness to his songs.

Overall, Machado is a poet filled with zeist who loves life and delights about the cycle of death and rebirth in nature.

The poems I posted here were some of my favorites, but his whole Proverbs is filled with quotable excerpts and life advice. I don't want to give this book a score like I did in my previous reviews, it suffices to say that I enjoyed it and from time to time, it gave me something deeper to think about.

(I apologize in case of writing mistakes, this is my first review written from scratch completely in English)

My other 2023 readings.

#book review #2023 readings #Antonio Machado #Poetry #Machado #poems #literature #life #death #nature #zeist

[myborderland]

In coro con me cantate: Sapere, nulla sappiamo. Arcano, il mare da cui veniamo. Ignoto il mare in cui finiremo. Posto tra i due misteri E il grave enigma: tre Casse che chiuse una perduta chiave. La luce nulla illumina, Il sapiente nulla insegna. La parola dice qualcosa? L'acqua, alla pietra, dice qualcosa?

(da Proverbios y Cantares di Antonio Machado)

#antonio machado