Antonio Machado begins the 53 short “Proverbs and Songs” from Fields of Castille (1912) with one that announces his intentions:
Nunca perseguí la gloria ni dejar en la memoria de los hombres mi canción; yo amo los mundos sutiles, ingrávidos y gentiles como pompas de jabón. Me gusta verlos pintarse de sol y grana, volar bajo el cielo azul, temblar súbitamente y quebrarse.
I’ve tried an English version that is a little loose to allow unforced near-rhymes that might honor Machado’s form:
Glory is never what I've sought, not to print my song in others' thought. I love delicate worlds, subtle and weightless as a soap bubble. I like to watch them decorate themselves with sun and scarlet, float below the sky's blue, tremble, and--pop--they're through.
See also: “a poem should.”