Traveler there is no road

I posted a poem by Antonio Machado a few entries ago, but I liked it so much that I decided to translate it to english. Not knowing what to do with the translation, I thought I'd post it here:

Traveler there is no road

Everything passes and everything remains,

but our course is to pass,

to pass making tracks,

tracks over the sea.

I never pursued glory

or to leave in the memory

of other men my song;

I love the subtle worlds,

lightweight and gentle,

like bubbles of soap.

I like to see them color

of sun and grain, to fly

under the blue sky, tremble

suddenly and break...

I never pursued glory.

Traveler, are your footprints

the road and nothing else;

traveler, there is no road,

the road is made as you walk.

As you walk you make a pathway

and when turning back to see

you see the trail that will never

be trodden upon again.

Traveler there is no road

only tracks over the sea...

Some time ago in that place

where the forests dress of thorns today

the voice of a poet was heard shouting

"Traveler there is no road,

the road is made as you walk..."

The poet died away from home.

He is covered by the dust of a neighboring country.

As he moved away they saw him cry.

"Traveler there is no road,

the road is made as you walk..."

Step by step, verse by verse...

When the goldfinch cannot sing.

When the poet is a pilgrim,

when prayer does us no good.

"Traveler there is no road,

the road is made as you walk..."

Step by step, verse by verse.

Antonio Machado