This from Ricardo Blanco's blog about The last days of Antonio Machado:
" This, however, was my first effort at one of his poems, before abandoning the idea of translating him:"
I have walked down many roads
and cleared many paths.
I have sailed a hundred seas
made fast to a hundred shores.
Everywhere I’ve seen
caravans of sadness,
proud people sad people
drunks in black shadow,
and pedants offstage
who watch on, keep silence, think
they know better, because they don’t
drink wine in humble bars.
Bad people who carry on
like pests polluting the earth.
And everywhere I’ve seen
people who dance and play
when they can, and work
their four palms of earth.
If they arrive somewhere
they never ask where they are.
When they travel, they ride
on the shanks of an old mule,
they never hurry
not even on fiesta days.
Where there is wine they drink wine;
where there is no wine they drink cold water.
Good people who live
and work, get by and dream.
And one day like any other
they go under the ground.
And in the original:
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.
(from Soledades, 1903).
https://richardgwyn.me/2016/10/02/the-last-days-of-antonio-machado/
