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作者: 羅伯特˙佛羅斯特

The 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;

 

hen took the other, as just as fair,

And havin 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 back.

Oh, I ketp the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on the 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.