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358 Spanish Antonio Machado (1875–1939) Waters I Sun in the ram. My window stands open to cold air. Evening wakens the river— hark! the rumour of the water there. II Gregarious sound begins to wane within the ancient hamlet, storks crowning its ample turrets. In the plain the water speaks from solitude and rocks. III As before, my thought is water’s captive; but of water in the live rock that is my heart. IV Can you tell the water’s sound? Whether of summit or of valley, plaza, garden, orchard ground? From “Galerías” Blue mountains, river, the erect and coppery wands of poplars in their delicacy, and on the hill, the almonds white— oh, snow in flower, butterfly in tree! Antonio Machado 359  A bean-scent on its breath, the wind goes by runs in the plain whose solitude is gay. Guadalquivír Oh, Guadalquivír! in Cazorla I saw you a spring; today, dying in Sanlúcar. A gushing of clear water under a green pine you were: how keen your chime! Like myself, close to the sea, river of brackish mud, do you dream of your source’s clarity? Charles Tomlinson, 1962 ...


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