Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Poem XXIV by Antonio Machado



Traveler, your footprints
are the only road, nothing else.
Traveler, there is no road;
you make your own path as you walk.
As you walk, you make your own road,
and when you look back
you see the path
you will never travel again.
Traveler, there is no road
only a ship's wake on the sea

See more of his work at http://www.whitepine.org/noroad.pdf

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