By Antonio Machado

Traveler the path is your footprints and nothing more

Traveller, there is no path

You make the path by walking

When walking you make the path
And when you turn to look back
You see the path that you will never trod again

Traveler, there is no path
Only sparkling reflections on the sea

Why call paths,
That which are only the furrows of fortune

Every traveler walks,
Like Jesus on the sea


Translated from the Spanish by David Seaton

Found while Googling American’s lack of the tragic sense.

Published by bingregory

Official organ of an American Muslim in Malaysian Borneo, featuring plants, pantuns and pictures from the Malay archipelago. Oversharing since 2002.

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