Reading of Robert Frost's poem, After Apple Picking, by me!
Here is the text:
MY long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree	
Toward heaven still,	
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill	
Beside it, and there may be two or three	
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.	        5
But I am done with apple-picking now.	
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,	
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.	
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight	
I got from looking through a pane of glass	        10
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough	
And held against the world of hoary grass.	
It melted, and I let it fall and break.	
But I was well	
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,	        15
And I could tell	
What form my dreaming was about to take.	
Magnified apples appear and disappear,	
Stem end and blossom end,	
And every fleck of russet showing clear.	        20
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,	
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.	
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.	
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin	
The rumbling sound	        25
Of load on load of apples coming in.	
For I have had too much	
Of apple-picking: I am overtired	
Of the great harvest I myself desired.	
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,	        30
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.	
For all	
That struck the earth,	
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,	
Went surely to the cider-apple heap	        35
As of no worth.	
One can see what will trouble	
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.	
Were he not gone,	
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his	        40
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,	
Or just some human sleep.

After Apple Picking

Reading by me of Robert Frost's poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Here is the text:

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.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening[1]

Recitation of Frost's "The Road Not Taken" by me
Here is the text:
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.

The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost

Sorry for the mispronunciation of 'wreathed' in the third-last line. It was too long for me to record the whole poem again :) As for the Italian language at the beginning, I tried to read it with the help of Google Translate, but an Italian can say how far I've been successful in doing it :)

The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock

Ashraf Ali
Islamabad, Pakistan
High School English Teacher
Student of MA English Language & Literature, 3rd semester at International Islamic University, Islamabad, Pakistan
MA Arabic
MA Islamic Studies
Speaks Pashto, Urdu, Arabic, English
Interested in languages, literature, phonetics, martial arts, karate