The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost ( Poetry Reading ). About the poet - Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 -- January 29, 1963) was an American poet. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech. One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of his generation, Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes for poetry
Ne vous laissez jamais faire en silence. Ne permettez jamais à personne de faire de vous une victime. N'acceptez jamais que votre vie soit définie par quelqu'un d'autre ; définissez-vous par vous-même.
Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life ; define yourself.
La liberté réside dans l'audace.
Ces bois sont charmants, sombres et profonds.
Mais il me reste des promesses à tenir
Et des lieux à parcourir avant de dormir
Et des lieux à parcourir avant de dormir
J’étais au milieu de la forêt, il y avait deux chemins devant moi, j’ai pris celui qui était le moins emprunté, et là, ma vie a commencé.
Le cerveau est un merveilleux organe. Il démarre au moment où vous vous levez et ne s'arrête qu'au moment où vous arrivez au bureau.
Poudre de neige.
La manière dont un corbeau,
en remuant, fit choir sur moi
De la poudre de neige
Du haut d'un pin-roi.
A offert à mon cœur
Un changement d'humeur
Et rattrapé une partie
D'un jour que j'avais regretté.
The Sound of Trees
I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.
Dust of Snow
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
A Minor Bird
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.