Creo que lo más justo es que lo primero que ponga (vale, lo segundo; pero no es lo primero por una razón de peso :D ) sea este grandioso poema de Robert Frost, ya que de él salió el nombre del blog, y al menos se merece eso, yo creo. Este texto describe un poco cómo está mi alma en este momento, y quizá por eso mismo es más especial.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Y de regalo, y más os vale iros acostumbrando, el poema más conocido de Robert Frost, y debo decir que, al ser tan famoso y tan real y tan profundo, es uno de esos grandes poemas que me enorgullezco de conocer; aunque según dicen las malas lenguas, todos los americanos se lo saben de memoria, por lo que mi hazaña no tiene nada de extraordinaria.

The Road Not Taken

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.