Winter, Robert Frost

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.

- Robert Frost (1874-1963)

이 숲이 누구 숲인지 나 아는 듯 하이. 하지만 그의 집은 마을에 있어 내가 멈춰서 그의 숲에 눈이 쌓이는 걸 지켜보는 것을 알지 못하리라.

- 로버트 프로스트

Beauty, Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
call to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

― Mary Oliver