The 28 best poems of Antonio Machado

Great poems don't just contain inspiring and thoughtful verses that reach us to the deepest corners of the soul, but give us a very personal sample of the perspective of the authors with respect to the different themes that are taken as motivation.

Well be life, social conflicts, sadness, love, loneliness, happiness, distance, politics, Each topic has its own emotional core and it is the poets who give it a beautiful meaning to be read and admired.

• We recommend you read: "The 20 best short poems (of the best authors)"

One of those great characters is Antonio Machado, a Spanish poet whose work evolved as much as he did over time and thus his visions about the world, full of symbolism and romance, was captured in a way that has passed into story. Therefore, in this article we bring you the best poems of this Spanish personality and have a way of knowing the world in a poetic way.

28 most memorable poems by Antonio Machado

Meet in this list the most interesting poems of the great Antonio Machado, versatile and symbolic about life.

1. Last night when i was sleeping

Last night when i was sleeping

I dreamed, blessed illusion!

that a fountain flowed

inside my heart.

Say: why hidden ditch,

water, you come to me,

spring of new life

where I never drank?

Last night when i was sleeping

I dreamed, blessed illusion!

that a hive had

inside my heart;

and the golden bees

they were manufacturing in it,

with the old bitterness,

white wax and sweet honey.

Last night when i was sleeping

I dreamed, blessed illusion!

that a burning sun shone

inside my heart.

He was hot because he gave

heats of red hearth,

and it was sun because it lit up

and because it made them cry.

Last night when i was sleeping

I dreamed, blessed illusion!

that it was God that he had

inside my heart.

• This beautiful poem brings us the affirmation that, despite all the evils that we may be experimenting, there is always room for hope and motivation to keep going for our account.

2. I never chased the glory

I never chased the glory

nor leave in memory

of men my song;

I love the subtle worlds

weightless and gentle

like soap foam.

I like to see them paint

of sun and scarlet, fly

under the blue sky, shake

suddenly and break.

• Antonio Machado shows how significantly beautiful it is to remain humble in any situation. Since glory can bring arrogance and transform the obtained into a dark burden.

3. Prelude

While the shadow passes from a holy love, today I want

put a sweet psalm on my old lectern.

I will agree the notes of the severe organ

sighing the fragrant fife of April.

Autumn pomas will ripen their aroma;

myrrh and frankincense will sing their scent;

the rose bushes will breathe their fresh perfume,

under the peace in the shade of the warm orchard in bloom.

To the slow low chord of music and aroma,

the single and old and noble reason for my praying

it will lift its soft dove flight,

and the white word will rise to the altar.

• This poem shows the concern for a new love that will come and how it will come, since we do not have complete control of what the future holds, but we can somehow guess which way it will take.

4. The arrow

Said a popular voice:

Who lends me a ladder

to climb the tree

to remove the nails

Jesus the Nazarene? »

Oh, the arrow, the singing

to the Christ of the gypsies

always with blood on my hands

always to be unlocked.

Song of the Andalusian people

that every spring

he's asking for stairs

to climb the cross.

Sing of my land

that throws flowers

to the Jesus of agony

and it is the faith of my elders

Oh, you are not my song

I can't sing, nor do I want to

to this Jesus of the tree

but to the one who walked in the sea!

• We can interpret this poem as a reflection about the true path that some people have with respect to the teachings that Jesus has left. For some take it for their convenience, while others enact the message of love.

5. On the death of Rubén Darío

If the harmony of the world was all in your verse

Where did you go, Darío, the harmony to seek?

Gardener of Hesperia, nightingale of the seas,

amazed heart of astral music,

Has Dionysos led you from his hand to hell

and with the new triumphant roses will you return?

Have you been hurt looking for the dream of Florida,

the fountain of eternal youth, captain?

That in this mother tongue the clear history remains;

hearts of all Spain, cry.

Rubén Darío has died in his lands of Gold,

this news came to us crossing the sea.

Let's put, Spaniards, in a severe marble

his name, flute and lyre, and an inscription no more:

Nobody this lyre press, if it is not Apollo himself;

Nobody this flute sounds, if it is not the same Pan.

• A moving poem that alludes to the great significant magnitude of the works that Rubén Darío has left in the world, as well as a tribute to the loss of such a great artist.

6. Torn the cloud

The cloud torn apart; the Rainbow

shining already in the sky,

and in a lantern of rain

and sun the field enveloped.

Woke up. Who muddies

the magic crystals of my dream?

My heart was beating

stunned and scattered.

The flowery lemon grove,

the cypress tree in the orchard,

the green meadow, the sun, the water, the iris!

The water in your hair ...

And everything in memory was lost

like a soap bubble in the wind.

• The surprise, intensity and joy about something new but more than welcome, is that this poem shows us. Never be afraid of change, especially if you are looking for beneficial opportunities.

7. Autumn dawn

A long road. between gray crags, and some humble meadow. where black bulls graze. Brambles, weeds, jarales.

The earth is wet. by the dew drops, and the golden avenue, towards the bend of the river. After the mountains of violet. the first dawn broken: the shotgun on his back, among his sharp greyhounds, a hunter walking.

• Sometimes we need to be hunters to be able to find not only the path we want to travel towards the future we want, but to seize the opportunities that these paths give us.

8. He told me one afternoon

He told me one afternoon

of spring:

If you are looking for ways

in bloom on earth,

kill your words

and hear your old soul.

That the same white linen

let it dress you

your dueling suit,

your party outfit.

Love your joy

and love your sadness,

if you are looking for roads

in bloom on earth.

I responded to the afternoon

of spring:

—You told the secret

that in my soul prays:

i hate joy

out of hatred of grief.

More before I step

your flowery path,

I would like to bring you

dead my old soul.

• This great poem leaves us with an important reflection about accepting everything that happens in the world as a natural process of it, both the joys and the sorrows. Since they all leave us much appreciated lessons and gifts.

9. I dreamed that you took me

I dreamed that you took me

down a white sidewalk,

in the middle of the green field,

towards the blue of the mountains,

towards the blue mountains,

a serene morning.

I felt your hand in mine

your hand as a companion,

your girl voice in my ear

like a new bell,

like a virgin bell

of a spring dawn.

They were your voice and your hand,

in dreams, so true ...

Live hope who knows

what the earth swallows!

• Surrounding ourselves with people who help us grow and support our dreams makes the world look more beautiful than it already is. Even more so if they are our partners.

10. Azorin

The red land of the wheat field of fire,

and the fragrance of flowery speech,

and the beautiful chalice of La Mancha saffron

loved, without diminishing the lis of France.

Whose is the double face, candor and boredom,

and his tremulous voice and his flat gesture,

and that noble appearance of a cold man

that corrects the fever of the hand?

Do not put, at the bottom, the thicket

of wild mountain or wild jungle,

but, in the light of a pure morning,

the mountain shines with foam of stone,

and the tiny town on the plain,

The sharp tower in the blue of Spain!

• Again, the poet Antonio Machado leaves in this poem a tribute to the teacher José Martínez Ruíz or ‘Azorín’ for his great works.

11. My jester

The demon of my dreams

laughs with her red lips,

his black and lively eyes,

her fine, small teeth.

And jovial and picaresque

launches into a grotesque dance,

wearing a deformed body

and its huge

hump. He is ugly and bearded,

and small and paunchy.

I don't know for what reason

of my tragedy, jester,

you laugh... But you are alive

for your dancing without reason.

• There are times when the world seems to mock our misfortunes, but we must also remember that the weight and meaning of these ‘misfortunes’ we attribute to ourselves in our mind.

12. The square has a tower

The square has a tower,

The tower has a balcony,

the balcony has a lady,

the lady a white flower.

A gentleman has passed

• Who knows why it happened! -

and has taken the square,

with its tower and its balcony,

with his balcony and his lady,

her lady and her white flower.

• The knight who always rescues the lady from her huge tower, who may or may not take her to a better place. It is a fun poem for children that invites them to become more interested in literature.

13. To an old and distinguished lord

I've seen you, through the ashen park

that poets love

to cry, like a noble shadow

wander, wrapped in your long frock coat.

The courteous demeanor, so many years ago

composed of a party in the anteroom,

How nice your poor bones

ceremonious save !?

I have seen you, inhaling distracted,

with the breath that the earth exhales

Today, warm afternoon in which the withered leaves

wet wind starts?

of the green eucalyptus

the freshness of the scented leaves.

And I have seen you take the dry hand

to the pearl that shines in your tie.

• What is it that drags us? Why hold on to something that hurts us instead of moving forward? A harsh metaphor for what we let go of just by staying in the past.

14. It was a morning and April was smiling

It was a morning and April was smiling.

In front of the golden horizon he died

the moon, very white and opaque; after her,

which faint slight chimera, ran

the cloud that barely clouds a star.

How the rose would smile tomorrow

I opened my window to the eastern sun;

and in my sad bedroom the east penetrated

in the song of larks, in the laughter of a fountain

and in a soft perfume of early flora.

It was a clear evening of melancholy.

April was smiling. I opened the windows

from my house to the wind... The wind brought

scents of roses, tolling of bells ...

Ringing of distant, weeping bells,

soft rose scented breath ...

… Where are the flower gardens of roses?

What do the sweet bells say to the wind?

I asked the April afternoon who was dying:

"At last joy is coming to my house?"

The April afternoon smiled: —The joy

passed by your door-and then, somber-:

He passed your door. Twice does not happen.

• A harsh truth that this poem shows us, where things may not be repeated because they do not happen the same and if we do not know how to take advantage of it, our opportunity to be happy will be lost.

15. Winter's sun

It's noon. A park.

Winter. White paths;

symmetrical mounds

and skeletal branches.

Under the greenhouse,

potted orange trees,

and in its barrel, painted

in green, the palm tree.

An old man says,

for his old coat:

«The sun, this beauty

sun... »The children play.

The water from the fountain

slip, run and dream

licking, almost mute,

the green stone.

• Although things seem very difficult, we can always find even a small spark of light that guides us forward.

16. Harmony spellings

Harmony spellings

who rehearses inexperienced hand.

Weariness. Cacophony

of the everlasting piano

that I used to listen to as a child

dreaming... I don't know with what

with something that did not arrive,

all that is already gone.

• A poem that tells us about the melancholy of days gone by and the expectations we have for the future, which sometimes don't come true.

17. For your window

For your window

a bouquet of roses gave me the morning.

Through a labyrinth, from street to street,

looking, I have run, your house and your fence.

And in a maze I find myself lost

On this flowery May morning

Tell me where you are!

Round and round

I can not anymore.

• Love is complicated because we all try to make it that way. Thanks to endless obstacles that become a pretext and when we want to recover
• love, sometimes it's too late

18. When is my life ...

When it's my life

all clear and light

like a good river

that runs happily

to the sea,

ignore the sea

that waits

full of sun and song.

And when it springs up in me

heart spring

it will be you, my life,

The inspiration

of my new poem.

A song of peace and love

to the rhythm of the blood

that runs through the veins.

A song of love and peace.

Just sweet things and words.

While,

meanwhile, keep the golden key

of my verses

between your jewels.

Save it and wait.

• A beautiful poem that talks about the beauty of poetry itself, which turns any feeling into an inspiration to be admired.

19. Walker there is no path

Wayfarer, they are your footprints

the road and nothing else;

Wayfarer, there is no way,

the path is made by walking.

By walking the path is made,

and looking back

you see the path that never

it has to be stepped on again.

Walker there is no path

but wakes in the sea.

• One of the best-known poems by Antonio Machado, which leaves us the lesson of always looking forward and never looking back, since there is no use repentance or do the old thing again.

20. Beloved, the aura says ...

Beloved, the aura says

your pure white dress ...

My eyes will not see you;

My heart awaits you!

The wind has brought me

your name in the morning;

the echo of your steps

repeat the mountain ...

my eyes will not see you;

My heart awaits you!

In the gloomy towers

the bells are ringing ...

My eyes will not see you;

My heart awaits you!

Hammer blows

they say the black box;

and the site of the pit,

the blows of the hoe ...

My eyes will not see you;

My heart awaits you!

• A poetry that is beautiful and sad at the same time, for the loss of a loved one and the harsh reality that now has to be faced without ever seeing it again, even though love. towards this remains intact.

21. Yard

Far from your garden the afternoon burns

golden incenses in glittering flames,

behind the forest of copper and ash.

In your garden there are dahlias.

Bad your garden!... Today I think

the work of a hairdresser,

with that poor little palmerilla,

and that painting of myrtle cut out ...

and the orange in her barrel... The water

from the stone fountain

she doesn't stop laughing over the white shell.

• An interesting and very beautiful metaphor that the poet uses to describe the beauty and richness of each element in a colorful garden.

22. Dreams

The most beautiful fairy has smiled

seeing the light of a pale star,

that in soft, white and silent thread

she curls herself onto the spindle of her blonde sister.

And he smiles again because on his spinning wheel

the thread of the fields tangles.

Behind the dim curtain in the bedroom

there is the garden shrouded in golden light.

The cradle, almost in shade. The kid sleeps.

Two industrious fairies accompany him,

spinning the subtle ones from dreams

ivory and silver flakes on spinning wheels.

• Dreams are places where we can escape to imagine and be happy. That is why it never hurts to appreciate our dreams and turn them into a source of inspiration.

23. I go dreaming roads

I go dreaming roads

pm. The hills

golden, the green pines,

the dusty oaks! …

Where will the road go?

I'm singing, traveler

along the trail ...

The afternoon is falling.

«In my heart I had

the thorn of a passion;

I managed to rip it off one day

I no longer feel my heart. "

And the whole field for a moment

remains, mute and gloomy,

meditating. The wind sounds

in the poplars of the river.

The afternoon grows darker;

and the road that winds

and weakly bleaches

it becomes cloudy and disappears.

My song wails again:

«Sharp golden thorn,

who could feel you

nailed in the heart. "

• This romantic poem shows us that, no matter how hard we try to be strong and 'stop feeling', there will always be a stimulus that brings us all of those. feelings back, feelings we must face.

24. Advice

This love that wants to be

perhaps it will soon be;

but when is he to return

what just happened?

Today is far from yesterday.

Yesterday is never again!

Coin that is in hand

maybe you should save:

the soul coin

it is lost if it is not given.

• Words that speak of fear, frustration and uncertainty about a love that is about to begin but that it is not known if it will last.

25. Spring was passing ...

The spring kissing

gently the grove,

and the new green sprouted

like a green smoke.

The clouds were passing

over the youth field ...

I saw in the leaves trembling

the cool April rains.

Under that flowering almond tree,

all loaded with flower

I remembered, I have cursed

my youth without love.

Today in the middle of life,

I have stopped to meditate ...

Youth never lived,

who would dream of you again!

• A somewhat bitter poem that talks about the feeling of having ‘wasted time’ in youth and that of course, it will never come back.

26. Countryside

The afternoon is dying

like a humble home that is turned off.

There, on the mountains,

some embers remain.

And that broken tree on the white road

makes you cry with pity.

Two branches on the wounded trunk, and one

withered black leaf on every branch!

Do you cry... Among the golden poplars,

far away, the shadow of love awaits you.

• Antonio Machado leaves us a way of witnessing love as the absolute salvation from the darkness that eats away at us, since it represents a new opportunity.

27. The clock struck twelve... and it was twelve

The clock struck twelve... and there were twelve

hoe blows on the ground ...

- My time!... - I screamed. The silence

He answered me: "Don't be afraid;

you won't see the last drop fall

that trembles in the hourglass.

You will sleep many hours still

on the old shore,

and you will find a pure morning

moored your boat to another shore.

• In this poem we can see a little about the uncertainty that the future holds for us, which sooner or later will come.

28. Love and the saw

He rode through the sour mountains,

one afternoon, between ashen rock.

The leaden ball of the storm

from mountain to mountain bouncing could be heard

Suddenly, in the bright glow of the lightning,

He reared under a tall pine tree

at the edge of the rock, his horse.

With a hard rein he got her back on the road.

And he had seen the cloud torn apart,

and, inside, the sharp cresting

from another more subdued and raised mountain range

Stone lightning seemed.

And did she see the face of God? She saw that of her loved one.

She screamed: Die in this cold saw!

• A poem that is both romantic and bitter, which shows us the search for love along difficult paths, but that we can find to give ourselves to eternity.