Everything happens and everything remains,
but ours is to pass,
spend on roads, paths
the sea.
Traveler, your footprints
the way and nothing more;
traveler, there is no path,
is made by walking.
By walking the path
and look back
is the path that never
has walked again.
Caminante no hay camino
but wakes in the sea ...
some time ago there
where the forests are dressed in thorns
heard the voice of a poet cry
"Caminante no hay camino,
is made by walking. .. "
-A.Machado-
logore Scarpe, scarpe
stanch
mie
and walked
pilgrim with my footprints behind and in front
only one path which is not, has not yet
you do ... go with the
Pilgrim in my shoes worn
