A few words on “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening," by Robert Frost, and its Italian version, by Literary Joint

 

1st edition (publ. Henry Holt, 1923)

Together with the poet, we may wonder whom those woods belong to, other than a known local landowner. The dark and profound realm of the woods beckons from afar, in the peaceful quietness of a snowy  evening, and a premonition of the perfect sleep falls upon the traveler, as he recoils back. The trip is still far from over, and all sorts of social obligations pull back towards the reality of life; yet the sleep, a sweet sleep, will come someday, and the notion of it is a companion of all our journeys.  

We present below an Italian translation of “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening," by Robert Frost, as well as its original text in English,  from the collection "New Hampshire", published in 1923.

Fermandosi nei pressi dei boschi in una sera di neve

Di chi siano questi boschi credo lo so
La sua casa è al villaggio, però;
Egli non mi vedrà fermarmi qua
A guardare i suoi boschi riempirsi di neve.

Il mio cavalluccio dovrà trovare strano
Fermarsi da ogni fattoria fuori mano
Tra i boschi e il lago gelato
La sera più buia dell'anno.

Questi fa scuoter i campanelli delle briglie
A chiedermi se non ci sia qualche sbaglio.
L'unico altro suono è lo spazzare
Di vento facile e piumosi fiocchi.

I boschi sono magnifici, fondi e neri,
Ma ho promesse da mantenere,
E miglia da percorrere prima di dormire,
E miglia da percorrere prima di dormire.

Robert Frost, dalla raccolta "New Hampshire", 1923. Traduzione in italiano a cura di LiteraryJoint.

Original English Text:

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

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.

by Robert Frost, from the collection "New Hampshire", 1923

An Italian Christmas Tale: "L'Inverno e il Re Triste, una Favola." A special gift from LiteraryJoint: free e-book download

Alle soglie dell'inverno, al limitare dei suoi giorni, un Re si spinge fin nei meandri del bosco, ove una creatura delle foreste gli confiderà un segreto fuggevole e misterioso.

Free download throughout this Holiday Season. Get your free e-book and enjoy!

Front cover of "L'Inverno e il Re Triste, una Favola," 2012

The Trees and the Wind, Appearences: a Poem from "Jersey Blues, Selected Poems"

Miners in the Snow: Winter, by Vincent van Gogh, 1882, Van Gogh Museum
Amsterdam, The Netherlands

"Denn wir sind wie Baumstämme im Schnee. Scheinbar liegen sie glatt auf, und mit kleinem Anstoß sollte man sie wegschieben können. Nein, das kann man nicht, denn sie sind fest mit dem Boden verbunden. Aber sieh, sogar das ist nur scheinbar." 
Die Bäume, by F. Kafka.
  

The Trees and the Wind, Appearances 

The wind
blows
through curved trees.

Trees
expire
in the curves of the wind.

Princeton, New Jersey, October 2005.
From "Jersey Blues: Selected Poems", also available on iBookstore, NOOK Book, and Amazon Kindle.

The Long Discourses of the Buddha

The Chinese Diamond Sutra, the oldest known dated printed book, 868 CE, Tang Dynasty.

The Long Discourses of the Buddha is an invaluable collection of the teachings of the Buddha, which we are very happy to present to our readers in this prominent translation work in English: "Digha Nikaya: The Long Discourses". The discourses not only represent a pinnacle of philosophy and morality, but also a source of a most notable poetic prose, whereby, through the use of metaphors, the most intangible conceptual ideas are passed down, for us to attempt to grasp.  

This precious work, edited by, Access to Insight, is offered thanks to the generosity of many, many authors, translators, publishers, and transcribers, who contributed their efforts absolutely free of charge, as an expression of dana.

'The Snow Will Fall', a Poem from the collection 'Jersey Blues'

Edvard Munch's 'Avenue in the Snow', '1906, 'Pompidou Centre, Paris

The Snow Will Fall

From the Labrador Sea, a howling, raging wind
blows and rattles my evening.
I am far away, lost. A greyish cat,
scrawny and restless, roving from corner to corner.
Finding no peace. Yet free. Or enslaved?
Who knows! And where is everybody?

Memories fall, they crumble...

Only a reminiscence of love
obstinately persists, chases my footsteps.
Certainly, I must have dreamt.
Such a wonderful dream, that the mere
sorrow of awaking casts a shadow
upon the day, and an entire existence.

Soon the snow will fall…

Princeton, New Jersey, December 2002
From "Jersey Blues: Selected Poems", also available on iBookstore, NOOK Book and Amazon Kindle.

'Arch Street', a Poem from the collection 'Jersey Blues'

Arch Street, Philadelphia (West from Broad St.), by James Cremer, 1821-1893

 

Arch Street

How fervent with life is the ephemeral city:
effervescent lives, yet doomed,
so precarious that, if only
awakened, the wind could easily push
aside, shuffling faces and destinies,
on an idle Saturday’s mid-Summer noon.

The sidewalks of China Town,
the alleys, the workshops, the odorous walls,
holding us to their ancient womb;
the fleeting hug of a mother,
already sunk into oblivion, to the
rascal lost on the street.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, July 2005 

From "Jersey Blues: Selected Poems", also available on Amazon Kindle, iBookstore and NOOK Book.

"The Road not Taken," by Robert Frost, Italian version, translated by LiteraryJoint

Mountain Interval, First edition, Publisher Henry Holt, 1920 La strada non presa Due strade divergevano in un giallo bosco, E dispiaciuto di non poter percorrerle entrambe E viaggiando da solo, rimasi lì lungamente E scrutai l'una più che potei Fin laddove girava nella boscaglia; Allora presi l'altra, che tanto valeva E aveva magari più fascino, Perché era erbosa e chiedeva di esser percorsa; Sebbene per tanto così il passarvi Le aveva consumate entrambe pressapoco lo stesso, E tutte e due quel mattino ugualmente giacevano In foglie che nessun calpestio di passi aveva annerito. Ah, tenni la prima per un altro giorno. Ma sapendo bene come una via conduce ad altra via, Dubitavo che vi sarei mai tornato. Dovrei raccontarlo con un sospiro Da qualche parte tante e tante stagioni or sono: Due vie divergevano in un bosco, ed io— Io presi quella meno percorsa, E ciò fece tutta la differenza. Robert Frost, dalla raccolta "Mountain Interval", 1920.
Versione in italiano a cura di LiteraryJoint. The Road not Taken 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. by Robert Frost, from the collection "Mountain Interval", 1920.