The Road Not Taken

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, 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 feet 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

Robert Frost (1874–1963)

Yo nunca he tenido dos caminos. Mi camino siempre fue igual. Nunca elegí. Las elecciones estaban siempre condicionadas por lo que debía hacer o lo me obligaban, de forma sutil, a elegir.

Hace años, muchos, algo floreció en mi camino y el camino se apartó de mi.  Hace años, muchos, que todo vuelve a ser como al principio: sólo hay deber... y dolor. El dolor de no volver nunca a aquel camino que tanto amé.