Walker, your footsteps 
are the road, and nothing more. 
Walker, there is no road, 
the road is made by walking. 
Walking you make the road, 
and turning to look behind 
you see the path you never 
again will step upon. 
Walker, there is no road, 
only foam trails on the sea.

Border of a Dream: Selected Poems of Antonio Machado, translated by Willis Barnstone