Like an abandoned dog who cannot finda smell or a track and roamsalong the roads, with no road, likethe child who in a night of the fairgets lost among the crowd,and the air is dusty, and the candlesfluttering,--astounded, his heartweighed down by music and by pain;that’s how I am, drunk, sad by nature,a mad and lunar guitarist, a poet,and an ordinary man lost in dreams,searching constantly for God among the mists.
Antonio Machado, Times Alone: Selected Poems
god, mystery