Hi everybody!!! I post hope today, this poem of Antonio Machado help me every time I have to go to chemo or operations. I hope it will help everybody in this phorum to live the life and walk their paths. I put a YouTube link of the Joan Manuel Serrat music versión of this poem and english traduction.

YouTube link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DA3pRht2MA

English traduction:

Antonio Machado
   
Singings
 
    
Everything passes and everything stays,
but our fate is to pass,
to pass making paths,
paths on the sea.
 
I never looked for glory,
nor to leave in the memory
of mankind my song;
I love subtle worlds,
lightnessful and gentile,
like soap bubbles.
   
I like to watch them painting
of sun and garnet, to fly
under the blue sky, tremble
suddenly and break...
    
I never looked for glory.
    
Walker, your treads are
the path and nothing more;
walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking.
    
When walking the path is made
and when looking back
you see the path that never
has to be walked again.
    
Walker, there is no path,
but trails in the sea...
    
Some time ago in that place
where woods dress with hawthorns today
the voice of a poet was heard, screaming
'Walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking...'
    
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse...
    
The poet died far away from home.
He's covered by dust of a neighboring
country.
When going away, they saw him crying.
'Walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking...'
    
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse...
    
When the goldfinch cannot sing.
When the poet is a pilgrim,
when praying has no use.
'Walker, there is no path,
the path is made when walking...'
    
Stroke by stroke, verse by verse.

Original spanish versión:

Todo pasa y todo queda
 Pero lo nuestro es pasar.
 Pasar haciendo caminos
 Caminos sobre la mar

 Nunca perseguí la gloria,
 Ni dejar la memoria
 De los hombres mi canción.

 Yo amo los mundos sutiles,
 Ingrávidos y gentiles,
 Como pompas de jabón.

 Me gusta verlos pintarse
 De sol y grana, volar
 Bajo el cielo azul, temblar
 Súbitamente y quebrarse.

 Nunca perseguí la gloria...

 (Recitado)
 Caminante, son tus huellas el camino y nada más.
 Caminante, no hay camino: se hace camino al andar.
 Al andar, se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás
 Se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar.
 Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.

 Hace algun tiempo en ese lugar
 Donde hoy los bosques se visten de espinos
 Se oyó la voz de un poeta gritar:
 "Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar,
 Golpe a golpe, verso a verso"

 Murió el poeta lejos del hogar
 Le cubre el polvo de un país vecino
 Al alejarse le vieron llorar
 "Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar
 Golpe a golpe, verso a verso."

 Cuando el jilguero no puede cantar
 Cuando el poeta es un peregrino
 Cuando de nada nos sirve rezar
 Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar
 Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
 Golpe a golpe, verso a verso
 Golpe a golpe, verso a verso 

So girls, go slowly, stroke by strkoe, verse by verse!!!!!