Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert FrostWhose 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.DỪNG CHÂN BÊN RỪNG GIỮA CHIỀU TÀ TUYẾT RƠIRừng của ai tôi nghĩ rằng tôi biết Nhà cũng đâu trong thôn xóm đằng kia Chủ không thấy tôi dừng đây tư lự Nhìn khu rừng tuyết đang phủ mịt mờ. Con ngựa nhỏ hẳn...