Antonio Machado

WRAPPED in silence, secret-shy,
Once and again he wandered by.
From such depth his glances came
One could hardly see them flame.
When he spoke his accent would express
Timidity and haughtiness,
And nearly always one could see
His thoughts shining radiantly.
His faith was rooted on firm ground;
He used to be luminous and profound.
In the same flock shepherded
Lambs and lions he might have led;
He could have driven rabbling gales,
Or brought honeycombs of tales.
The wonders of love and life and pleasure
Were his to sing in a magic measure,—
In verses whose meaning was hidden deep,
Whose secret lay in his soul's keep.
He mounted a rare wing'd horse one day
And to the Impossible soared away.
I pray to my gods for Antonio:
May they keep him from all woe.
Amen.