Sicak corek sevgisi , basilmayan kaldirim cizgileri , balkonlarin sirasi , valiz duzeniyle .. kisacasi her detayiyla bana yuvamda hissettirdi
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.