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El camino no elegido

Dos caminos divergen en un bosque dorado, y yo sufrí por no poder viajar por ambos.

Siendo un viajero solitario, permanecí ahí por un largo rato y miré por uno lo más lejos y con algo de arrebato, hasta donde se sesgaba en la espesura.

Pero luego tomé el otro, igual al primero en belleza y me parece que tal vez elegí con certeza, porque en él la hierba era tupida y anhelaba ser pisada a pesar de que en aquella encrucijada, el paso de otros los había desgastado casi de la misma forma.

Y aquella mañana los dos yacían casi igual, a las hojas el paso no las había ennegrecido de forma total. ¡Pero dejé el primero para otro día! Y sabiendo cómo el camino nos lleva por la vida, dudé si alguna vez regresaría.

Diré esto con un suspiro a siglos y siglos del camino; dos caminos se separan en un bosque, y yo… yo tomé el menos transitado, y eso hizo toda la diferencia.

Robert Frost

The road not taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both, And be 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 took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Autho®️ Robert Frost

Angel <<J>> Voset

Photography by writely penned/ Davidby narrow.com, fineartamerica.com

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