Wednesday, June 13, 2007

‘Yo eschuco los cantos’

I follow the songs
with age-old rhythms
the children are singing
while they are playing
and showing in song
what their souls are dreaming,
like stone fountains
that show their water:
in monotonous murmurs
of undying laughter
that has in it no joy,
of ancient weeping
that has in it no pain
and speaks of sadness
the sadness of loving
of ancient legends.

In the mouths of children
the singing brings
the tale’s confusion,
pain that’s clear
as that clear water,
brings the message
of ancient love,
that it conceals.

Playing in shadows
of an ancient plaza
the children, singing…

The fountain of stone
poured out its eternal
crystal of legend.
The children were singing
innocent songs
of things that go on
and are never ending:
the story confused
the suffering clear.

The fountain serenely
continued its tale:
erasing the story,
telling the pain.

By Antonio Machado

No comments: