Dust, mud, sun and rain

is the road to Santiago.

Thousands of pilgrims

and more than thousand of years.

Pilgrim, who calls you?

What hidden force draws you?

Neither the fields of stars

nor the great cathedrals.

It’s not sturdy Navarre

nor the wine from La Rioja

nor Galician seafood

nor the Castillan fields.

Pilgrim, who calls you?

What hidden force draws you?

Neither the people along the way

nor their customs.

It’s not the history and culture

or the cockerel in Santo Domingo de La Calzada

nor Gaudi’s place

nor the castle of Ponferrada

I see it all as I pass along

and it is a joy to see,

but the voice that calls me,

I feel more deeply still.

The force that drives me

The force that draws me

I am unable to explain.

Only He Above knows!

 

(Sherif just said at the beginning of his email the question, “Remember?”)