El bosque es hermoso, oscuro y profundo. Pero tengo promesas que cumplir, y millas que recorrer antes de dormir. Y millas que recorrer antes de dormir.
Robert FrostHe said the dead had souls, but when I asked him
How that could be - I thought the dead were souls,
He broke my trance. Don't that make you suspicious
That there's something the dead are keeping back?
Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back.
For, dear me, why abandon a belief
Merely because it ceases to be true?
Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt
It will turn true again, for so it goes.
Most of the change we think we see in life
Is due to truths being in and out of favor.
As I sit here, and often times, I wish
I could be monarch of a desert land
I could devote and dedicate forever
To the truths we keep coming back and back to.
––from "The Black Cottage
Mots clés life truth belief change fashion permanence
La strada non presa
Due strade divergevano in un bosco d'autunno
e dispiaciuto di non poterle percorrere entrambe,
essendo un solo viaggiatore, a lungo indugiai
fissandone una, più lontano che potevo
fin dove si perdeva tra i cespugli.
Poi presi l'altra, che era buona ugualmente
e aveva forse l'aspetto migliore
perché era erbosa e meno calpestata
sebbene il passaggio le avesse rese quasi uguali.
Ed entrambe quella mattina erano ricoperte di foglie
che nessun passo aveva annerito
oh, mi riservai la prima per un altro giorno
anche se, sapendo che una strada conduce verso un'altra,
dubitavo che sarei mai tornato indietro.
Lo racconterò con un sospiro
da qualche parte tra molti anni:
due strade divergevano in un bosco ed io -
io presi la meno battuta,
e questo ha fatto tutta la differenza.
Mots clés knowledge freedom risk travel
In fetid darkness still to live and run--
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
Robert FrostReluctance
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.
The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.
And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'
Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?
Mots clés love reason poetry nature autumn
Working faithfully 8 hours a day, you may eventually get to be the boss and work 12 hours a day.
Robert FrostLife must be kept up at a great rate in order to absorb any considerable amount of learning.
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Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.
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