Разбирала распечатки по методологии за прошлый семестр и наткнулась на замечательный стих, с которым мы работали. Он просто чудесный. И очень жизненный, и каждый раз трогает почти до слез. Выкладываю тут.

Robert Frost

"The Road Not Taken", 1950

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, and 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 travelled by,

   And that has made all the difference.