These Golden Bees

"And the golden bees 

were making white combs 

and sweet honey

  from my old failures."

Antonio Machado

I don't know Spanish, but ever since hearing the poet David Whyte read this Machado poem in translation, these lines have been among my favorites. I know the poem by its first line in English, "Last Night As I Was Sleeping." Or something like that.

I've been thinking about them a lot lately, and I want to write a series of posts about "the Golden Bees' School of Art"--or how these golden bees seem to operate in my own art-making (and life-living). 

But because I'm up against a serious deadline to be ready for an Artisan Fair on Friday afternoon, for today I am only going to leave you with these lines. Let them wash over you and into you, and see what happens. 

Here they are again, with a few more lines that go with them:

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt--marvelous error!--

that I had a beehive

here in my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.