Friday, May 22, 2015

Last night while I was sleeping



Last night while I was sleeping

by
 Antonio Machado

Translated by Willis Barnstone

Last night while I was sleeping
I dreamed—blessed illusion!—
a fountain flowed
inside my heart.
Water, tell me by what hidden
channel you came to me
with a spring of new life
I never drank?

Last night while I was sleeping
I dreamed—blessed illusion!—
I had a beehive
inside my heart,
and from my old bitterness
the gold bees
were contriving white combs
and sweet honey.

Last night while I was sleeping
I dreamed—blessed illusion!—
a fiery sun glowed
inside my heart.
It was fiery, giving off heat
from a red fireplace.
It was the sun throwing out light
and made one weep.

Last night while I was sleeping
I dreamed—blessed illusion!—
that it was God I held
inside my heart.

This is a wonderfully inspiring poem by  Antonio Machado, one of the greatest  poets of Spain’s Generation of ’98


It doesn’t feel confessional; it’s not a complaint; we don’t sense the self-obsession of so many confessional poems.Can we look at our vulnerable, unrepeatable life and recognize it as a life of grace? Antonio Machado proposes that while we so sleep into the depth of many nights, we also foster a great dream-a blessed illusion- that inside our own heart there is a beehive alive with transformation. We recoil in shame and hide our mistakes and failures, while somewhere inside the beehive of our heart, there is honey being hatched from our failures. If we can dare to live completely, into our failures and allow them into full reality, and prepare ourselves to suffer inappropriate shame rather than neurotically deflect it toward fear and anger, then great sweetness can sprout where all was bitter. Bitterness held with integrity and humor turns out in the fullness of time to have a quality of ineffable sweetness that nourishes everyone who comes in contact with it; the bitter is transformed into life-bestowing blessedness.  The image-white combs of sweetest honey formed entirely in the dark- is calm and matter-of-fact, and no one else seems to be able to do that.

I liked the structure of the poem and the way it builds to its final night of a revelatory dream. Simple but effective.

Ref: Border of a Dream: Selected Poems. Author: Antonio Machado. Translated by Willis Barnstone


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