黃樹林裡，落葉遍地，迎面而來的道路分岔，遺憾我無法兩條皆行。
旅行至此，佇立良久，向前引頸眺望，小徑隱約消失在蔓草覆蓋處。
我走進另一條相同覆滿落葉的幽徑，或許有更好的原因，等我踏尋；
儘管途經那裡，兩條路頗相似。
那日清晨，兩條路勢均力敵呼喚。
就留第一條路下回試吧！
縱使我明白道路條條接續連結，
不見得還能讓走回來這一條路。
歲月步步推進的多年後，或許我會在某處嘆息說：
兩條路分岔在黃葉樹林，我選擇少人走的那一條，如今一切都不一樣了。
原詩：《The Road Not Taken》
Robert Frost (1874–1963)
Mountain Interval. 1920
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.
