Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost (1922)

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.

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.

This poem by the famous American poet, Robert Frost, reminds me of a Hebrew
sentence that an Israeli friend told me:
מי שלא נשם אבק דרכים, לא ישאף אוויר פסגות
Those who don’t breathe the dust of the way, won’t get to breathe the air at the summits.
Yes, it’s true that hiking up a high mountain is physically demanding, if not exhausting,
but the moment that you reach the top and see the surrounding view, breathing the air
in, you’ll feel that it’s all worth it.

But I argue that ‘breathing the dust of the way’ has its own joy too. There are pretty
flowers, or dried-up, used-to-be-pretty flowers that we can look at and appreciate. As
well as occasional sightings of pretty birds, butterflies, etc. But regardless of all those
external beauty, I find joy in each step I take, knowing that at this moment – right on
this journey, I’m going to where I truly want.

Drawing by Soni

Lê Xuân Nhi (Soni), from Vietnam. A 4th-year Mechanical Engineering international student. She enjoys reading works from different languages and genres.