“The Road Not Taken,” by Robert Frost, 1916
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Tu roudz dai-‘vêrjd în â ‘ié-lou wuhd,
And sorry I could not travel both
Aen ‘só-ri ai kuhd nohd ‘trae-vêu bouth
And be one traveler, long I stood
Aen bi uôn ‘trae-vê-lêr, lóng ai stuhd
And looked down one as far as I could
Aen luhgkd daun uôn aez far aez ai kuhd
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Tu wer ît bent în dhê ‘ûn-dêr-grouth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
Dhén tuhgk dhê ôdhêr, aez djûst aez fer,
And having perhaps the better claim
Aen ‘hae-vîng pêr-‘haeps dhê ‘bé-dtêr cleim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Bi-‘kûz ît wâz ‘grae-si én ‘uón-tîd wer;
Though as for that the passing there
Dhou aez fôr dhaed dhê ‘pae-sing dher
Had worn them really about the same,
Haed worn dhêm ‘rî-li âbau-dhê seim,
And both that morning equally lay
Aen bouth dhaed ‘mor-nîng ‘i-kuâ-li lei
In leaves no step had trodden black.
În livz nou stép haed ‘tró-dên blaek.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Ou, ai ‘kép-dtê fîrst fôr â-‘nô-dhêr dei!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
ied ‘nou-îng hau uei lidz ón tuh uei,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
Ai ‘dau-dtêd îf ai shuhd ‘é-vêr côm baek.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Ai shael bi ‘té-lîng dhîs wîth â sai
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
‘Sûm-wer ‘ei-djês én ‘ei-djês héns:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
Tu roudz dai-‘vêrdjd în â wuhd, én ai-
I took the one less traveled by,
Ai tuhk dhê uôn léss ‘trae-vêud bai,
And that has made all the difference.
Aen dhaed haez meid ól dhê ‘dî-frîns