never looked for glory or leaving the memory of men
my song
I love the subtle worlds, weightless and Gentiles
like soap bubbles. I like to see painted
sun and scarlet,
fly under the blue sky, shake and break suddenly
.
Traveler, your footprints
the way, and nothing more;
traveler, there is no path,
is made by walking.
By walking the path,
and
look back you see the path that has
never walked again.
Caminante, no hay camino,
but wakes in the sea.
Antonio Machado.
It 
0 comments:
Post a Comment