Following The Path of The Naked Land – Antonio Machado

En la desnuda tierra del camino
la hora florida brota,
espino solitario,
del valle humilde en la revuelta umbrosa.

El salmo verdadero
de tenue voz hoy torna
al corazón, y al labio,
la palabra quebrada y temblorosa.

Mis viejos mares duermen; se apagaron
sus espumas sonoras
sobre la playa estéril. La tormenta
camina lejos en la nube torva.

Vuelve la paz al cielo;
la brisa tutelar esparce aromas
otra vez sobre el campo, y aparece,
en la bendita soledad, tu sombra.

Following the path of the naked land,
the time for flowers comes.
Lonely thorns
Scrambled shadows in the humble valley.

The true psalm.
Today, a tenuous voice returns
to the heart. And, to the lips,
a broken and trembling word.

The old sea is mine and she sleeps;
The sound of her foamy waves
were extinguished on the sterile beach.
The storm moves in the distance
with fierce clouds.

Peace returns to the sky;
The breeze takes me under
its wing again and scatters
pleasant smells all over the fields
and appearing in the blessed solitude,
is your shadow.

Antonio Machado

Translated by Me.

He Andado Muchos Caminos – Antonio Machado

He Andado Muchos Caminos

He andado muchos caminos,
he abierto muchas veredas;
he navegado en cien mares,
y atracado en cien riberas.

En todas partes he visto
caravanas de tristeza,
soberbios y melancólicos
borrachos de sombra negra,

y pedantones al paño
que miran, callan, y piensan
que saben, porque no beben
el vino de las tabernas.

Mala gente que camina
y va apestando la tierra…

Y en todas partes he visto
gentes que danzan o juegan,
cuando pueden, y laboran
sus cuatro palmos de tierra.

Nunca, si llegan a un sitio,
preguntan a dónde llegan.
Cuando caminan, cabalgan
a lomos de mula vieja,

y no conocen la prisa
ni aun en los días de fiesta.
Donde hay vino, beben vino;
donde no hay vino, agua fresca.

Son buenas gentes que viven,
laboran, pasan y sueñan,
y en un día como tantos,
descansan bajo la tierra.

Translation:

I Have Walked Down Many Roads

I have walked down many roads.
I have cut many new paths.
I have sailed in a hundred seas
And docked in a hundred shores.

In all the places, I have seen
Caravans of sad people,
Magnificent, yet beaten down
Drunk with black shade.

And the self-righteous
in their fancy clothes,
that watch, closed mouth
but thinking that they are better
because they don’t drink wine in the taverns.

Bad people who walk
And in their walking
Stink up the land.

Still, everywhere, I can see
People who dance and play,
When they can,
And toil their little plot of earth.

When arriving at a place
They never ask where they are
Walking, or riding on the back
Of an old mule.

They have no reason to hurry,
Not even on the holy days.
When there is wine, they drink it.
And, when no wine, they drink cold water.
They are good people who live,
Work, they pass and dream.
And today, so many
Are resting under the earth.

translated by Me.