Hace tres días, gritó que me quería
Hace dos, como empezó, me dijo adiós
Ayer, soñé que regresaría
Hoy, ya no encuentro su voz.
Decidió escapar, aunque la detuve
Dirá que fui yo quien no supo insistir
Decidió saltar, cuando la sostuve
Dirá que fui yo quien la dejó ir.
Mas si tocara de nuevo mi puerta
la abrazaría con fuerza, sin miedo
Porque de este amor, una cosa es cierta
Aunque ella decida marcharse, yo, me quedo.
by Robert Frost
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.
Featured image by Margaret Ellis