Antonio Machado, It Was a Clear Afternoon, Sad and Somnolent…
“ Remember, brother? ... The dangling myrtle, that you see, darkened the clear songs that you hear. Blonde as a flame, the ripe fruit hung from the branch, the same as now. Remember, brother?... It was this same slow summer afternoon. –My sister the fountain, I don’t know what your bright copla of distant dreams is saying. ”
