The Heart in Poems: Antonio Machado

Antonio Machado

(1875-1939)

Tuvo mi corazón, encrucijada
de cien caminos, todos pasajeros,
un gentío sin cita ni posada,
como en andén ruidoso de viajeros.

Hizo a los cuatro vientos su jornada,
disperso el corazón por cien senderos
de llana tierra o piedra aborrascada,
y, a la suerte, en el mar, de cien veleros.

Hoy, enjambre que torna a su colmena
cuando el bando de cuervos enronquece
en busca de su peña denegrida,

vuelve mi corazón a su faena,
con néctares del campo que florece
y luto de la tarde desabrida.

The Work

My heart was where a hundred dusty roads

crossed and then ran on; or it was a station

full of hopeful travelers, though not one

had either lodgings or a real appointment.

Whatever it was - my heart, within a day,

was scattered on a hundred winds, and sped

through canyons, deserts, river-plains and valleys

to dark ports, sea-lanes, unmapped continents.

But now, like a swarm returning to the hive

at that purple hour when all the cross go hoarse

and sail off to the crags and the black caves,

my heart turns to its melancholy work

with honey gathered from a hundred flowers

and the hundred sorrows of the gathering dark.

Translation by D. Patterson