Frost: The Road Not Taken

Simple poems of a time when I was younger, perhaps not as well known as they should be internationally.

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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About carlos

I'm a curious person, of reasonable intellect, "on the beach" (retired) and enjoying my interest in anthropology, language, civil rights, and a few other areas. I've been a hippie/student/aerospace tech writer in the '60s, a witness to the Portuguese revolution in the ‘70s, a defense test engineer and witness to the Guatemalan genocide in the '80s, and a network engineer for an ISP in the '90s. Now I’m a student and commentator until my time is up. I've spent time under the spell of the Mesoamerican pyramids and the sweet sound of the Portuguese language. I've lived in Europe, traveled in Brazil, Central America, Iceland, New Zealand, and other places. My preferred mode of travel is with a backpack and I eat (almost) anything local. Somehow, many of the countries I have been to have had civil unrest (for which I was not responsible). I'm open to correspond with anyone who might share my liberal, humanist interests. I live in San Buenaventura, California.
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One Response to Frost: The Road Not Taken

  1. Carlos:

    Este poema de Robert Frost conheço-o desde meu tempo de Faculdade. Como apreciei este author!. Sua linguagem poética é de mais fácil apreensão para quem não é nativo de lingua inglesa do que, em geral, a linguagem de outros autores.

    Cheguei mesmo a memorizar um poema de Frost – talvez o que mais gostei.
    Não me lembro do título, mas começava assim:

    ” Whose are these woods?
    I think I know.
    His house is in the village, though.”

    E terminava:

    ” But I have a long way to ride
    And promises to keep.”

    Eu era, então, uma adolescente e de lá para cá, como o poeta, percorri um longo caminho e cumpri com minhas promessas…

    Um abraço.

    Clara

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