Antonio Machado, ‘Sobre la tierra amarga...’
Upon the bitter land,
the dream holds labyrinthine
roads, tortured paths,
parks in flower and shade and silence;
deep crypts, climbing above stars;
icons of hopes and memories.
Tiny figures that pass and smile
- an old man’s melancholy toys - ;
friendly images,
at the path’s flowered turn,
and roseate chimeras
that make a way . . . far away
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