Antonio Machado

(26 July 1875 – 22 February 1939 / Seville)

Antonio Machado
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Antonio Cipriano José María y Francisco de Santa Ana Machado y Ruiz, known as Antonio Machadocwas a Spanish poet and one of the leading figures of the Spanish literary movement known as the Generation of '98.

Life

Machado was born in Seville one year after his brother Manuel. The family moved to Madrid in 1883 and both brothers enrolled in the Institución Libre de Enseñanza. During these years, and with the encouragement of his teachers, Antonio discovered his passion for literature. While completing his Bachillerato in Madrid, economic difficulties forced him to take several jobs including working as an actor. In 1899 he travelled with his brother to Paris to work as ... more »

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Comments about Antonio Machado

more comments »
  • Ray Burleigh (4/22/2016 3:52:00 AM)

    I lived in Spain in the later sixties. The college kids I hung around with loved bullfighting, Real Madrid and Machado, not always in that order. He was, they would say to mea calm voice and someone who loved the people. They respected and loved the gypsy flash of Lorca (these were people who recited in the streets, to women from under balconies, in bars amidst the noise) but Machado was their honored and loving friend who gave them back a language that was their own.

  • Jared Powell (5/5/2014 1:02:00 PM)

    Bob Sagget! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

  • Juan Rodriguez Juan Rodriguez (11/22/2013 8:35:00 AM)

    Ej mejor de la Generacion del '98. Gran Poeta!

  • Juan Rodriguez Juan Rodriguez (11/22/2013 8:34:00 AM)

    Antonio Machado was one of the greatest poet of Spain and one of the greatest of the Generation of'98.

Read all 4 comments »
Best Poem of Antonio Machado

Last Night As I Was Sleeping

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I ...

Read the full of Last Night As I Was Sleeping

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