Nature-inspired poetry. The Guadalquivir

Andalusian people have always been awed about the magnificent river of Guadalquivir among the other manifestations of nature and many poets in these lands have also been inspired by those same waters. A Cordovan poetess, Concha Lagos (1909-2007) has written the lines I love most using a language so simple, crisp and plain, yet so deep and bottomless. Here you go.

Al Guadalquivir	To Guadalquivir
¡Qué pequeño naces!, niño, río, amor, ¡Qué grande te haces!	Born so wee, boy, river, love, you grow so big!

Concha Lagos with Vicente Aleixandre and other poets. Image taken from I.E.S. Carbula website

Note that this piece is very much in line with how the common people feel about their beloved river, the one that wines and dines and comforts them. You can read the same spirit in the work of Sevillian playwrights, Quintero brothers (Serafín, 1871-1938; Joaquín, 1873-1944). Here are extracts from a poem by the two, as it's set in stone near a bridge (namely, Puente de las Herrerías) in the sources of the Guadalquivir River.

¡Detente aquí viajero! En estas peñas nace el que es ya Rey de los ríos, entre pinos gigantes y bravíos que arrullan su nacer ásperas breñas.  /.../ Él se ensancha entre olivos y trigales cruza pueblos de hechizo y de poesía y al mar corre a rendirle sus cristales.  /.../	Hold on here, wanderer! On these rocks is born the king of the rivers, between the giant wild pines that lull the rugged badlands to sleep.  /.../ Between olive groves it widens and wheat fields, through spellbound souls and verse folks it goes and runs to the sea that its crystals now wields. /.../
Verses, as they appear here, taken from a blog

Quintero brothers. Image taken from Poesía Hispánica website

See, a river in these dry, heat-beaten lands is pretty much an Alpha and Omega, the first and last, for it gives if honoured and protected and carries the dreams of many thousands good and honest Andalusians. Now, a poem by Antonio Machado that sums it all up for me; let it touch you, too!

LXXXVII	LXXXVII
¡Oh Guadalquivir! Te vi en Cazorla nacer; hoy, en Sanlúcar morir. Un borbollón de agua clara, debajo de un pino verde, eras tú, ¡qué bien sonabas! Como yo, cerca del mar, río de barro salobre, ¿sueñas con tu manantial?	Oh Guadalquivir! I saw you born in Gazorla and dying today in Sanlúcar! You were clear water bubbling beneath a green pine. What a fine sound you made! Like me, as you near the sea, river of brackish mud, do you dream of your springs?
	Translated by Alan S Trueblood (see the references)

Antonio Machado. Image taken from here