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I go dreaming down roadways


I go dreaming down roadways

of evening. Emerald pine-trees

golden hillsides

dusty oak-leaves!…

Where does this road go?

I go travelling, singing,

into the road’s far distance…

– evening falls slow –


‘I bore in my heart

the thorn of passion:

Drew it out one day

And my heart is numb.’

And suddenly all the land

was silent, mute and sombre,

meditating. Sound of the wind

in the riverside poplars.

Evening’s more shadowy

and the turning road

that faintly whitens

blurs, in vanishing.

Lament, my song turns to:

‘Gold thorn, so sharp

Could I but feel you

lodged in my heart.’



Antonio Machado


This poem has been translated from Spanish. This is the original version: Link