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.
黃葉林中出條岔路，
無奈壹人難於兼顧，
順著壹條婉蜒小路，
久久佇立極目遠眺，
只見小徑拐進灌木。
接著選擇了另壹條，
同樣清楚似乎更好，
引人踩踏鋪滿茂草，
踏在其間難分彼此，
盡管真有兩條道。
清晨裏躺著兩條路，
壹樣葉被無人踏臟，
願將第壹條來日補，
但知條條相連遠途，
懷疑日後怎能回返。
在很久以後某壹地，
我將嘆息訴說於人，
兩路岔開在樹林裏，
我選的那條足跡稀，
而壹切差別由此起。