Your voice and hand
I dreamt you were carrying me
across a white path,
in the middle of the green field,
toward the blue of the sierra,
toward the blue mountains,
one serene morning.
I felt your hand in mine,
your trusted hand,
I heard your young girl's voice
like a new bell,
like the virgin bell
of a Spring dawn.
Your voice and hand,
how true they were in dreams!...
Live on, hope; who knows
what the earth has devoured!
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Autres oeuvres par Antonio Machado...
