von Robert Frost
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.
The snows they melt the soonest
When the winds begin to sing
And the corn it ripens faster
When the frost is settling in
And when a woman tells me
That my face she’ll soon forget
Before we part away to come
She’s bound to follow yet Weiterlesen →
Ich mag Schnee. Vor allem dann, wenn er nicht gleich wieder schmilzt und zu grau-weißem Matsch wird wie in den Städten, sondern wenn er liegen bleibt. Und man nicht auf Verkehrsmittel angewiesen ist, sondern ihn mit Muße draußen erleben kann. Keine … Weiterlesen →