——by Anne Bradstreet　安妮·布莱兹特里特

To sing of wars, of captains, and of kings,

Of cities founded, commonwealths begun,

For my mean pen are too superior things:

Or how they all, or each their dates have run

Let poets and historians set these forth,

My obscure lines shall not so dim their worth.

But when my wond'ring eyes and envious heart

Great Bartas' sugared lines do but read o'er,

Fool I do grudge the Muses did not part

'Twixt him and me that overfluent store;

A Bartas can do what a Bartas will

But simple I according to my skill.

From schoolboy's tongue no rhet'ric we expect,

Nor yet a sweet consort from broken strings,

Nor perfect beauty where's a main defect:

My foolish, broken, blemished Muse so sings,

And this to men, alas, no art is able,

'Cause nature made it so irreparable.

Nor can I, like that fluent sweet tongued Greek

Who lisped at first, in future times speak plain.

By art he gladly found what he did seek,

A full requital of his striving pain.

Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure:

A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue

Who says my hand a needle better fits,

A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong,

For such despite they cast on female wits:

If what I do prove well, it won't advance,

They'll say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance.

But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild

Else of our sex, why feigned they those nine

And poesy made Calliope's own child;

So 'mongst the rest they placed the arts divine.

But this weak knot they will full soon untie,

The Greeks did nought, but play the fools and lie.

Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are

Men can have precedency and still excel,

It is but vain unjustly to wage war;

Men can do best, and women know it well.

Preeminence in all and each is yours;

Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.

And oh ye high flown quills that soar the skies,

And ever with your prey still catch your praise,

If e'er you deign these lowly lines your eyes,

Give thyme or parsley wreath, I ask no bays;

This mean and unrefined ore of mine

Will make your glist'ring gold but more to shine.

讴歌战争，讴歌船长和国王，

城市的建立，联邦的始创，

对于我卑微的笔过于堂皇：

它们所有或其一的盛衰兴亡，

也让诗人和历史学家去撰写，

我无名的诗行不会使他们黯然失色。

当我徜祥的双眼和仰慕的心灵

浏览巨匠巴特斯的甜蜜诗行，

愚蠢的我委实嫉妒缪斯偏心，

不让我与他分享那流畅的思想；

让巴特斯去作巴特斯想作的诗，

很简单，我将按我的技能行事。

从小学生之口我们不奢望华丽的文词，

不奢望断弦弹奏出甜美的乐章，

也不奢望在缺陷之处找到完美：

我愚蠢、破裂、瑕疵的缪斯依旧歌唱，

要补救此事，啊呀，无法做到，

因为天性已经使之不可救药。

我也不能像那位希腊人文章流畅，

他开始口齿不清，后来言语滔滔。

艺术使他愉快地找到他的理想，

这是对他艰苦努力的圆满回报。

艺术产生奇迹，但这句格言肯定无疑：

薄弱和受伤的大脑都没有救治。

我深深受害于每一张饶舌的尖嘴，

说我的手更适合缝纫的针线。

世人嘲笑我冤枉了诗人的笔，

这是对我们女性心智的轻贱：

即使我作品优秀，也不会有所进展，

他们会说是剽窃，或者是偶然。

但可以肯定，古希腊人对我们这一性

更温柔，否则他们怎会想出九位缪斯，

让诗歌成为克莱俄帕自己的孩子；

这样他们可使神圣的艺术与其它平等。

这个松松的结，他们很快解散，

希腊人一事无成，仅仅在愚弄和欺骗。

让希腊人作希腊人，女性作女性，

男性优先，他们仍然超群卓越，

挑起两性之争，自负而不公平；

男性事业杰出，女性深深明白。

所有和一切的优胜都属于你们；

但是请给我们一点点应有的承认。

啊，翱翔蓝天展翅高飞的羽翼，

你永远以你捕捉的猎物获得礼赞，

如果你能让双眼屈就这段拙诗，

请献百里香或欧芹，我不指望桂冠；

我这些低劣和未经提炼的岩矿，

必将使你闪光的金子更加闪光。

【作者简介】

安妮·布英兹特里特（1612？-1672）是美国第一位诗人。但她出生于英格兰，在林肯郡长大。1630年随父亲和丈夫来到北美马萨诸塞湾殖民地。她的诗歌多写个人经历，比如儿女的出生和死亡，与丈夫的关系，自己与病痛的斗争等等。她的风格与同时代的英国诗人爱德华·泰勒和约翰·多恩有相似之处，融清教寓言、古典典故、神话故事和玄学奇喻于一炉。她最著名的诗集是《第十位缪斯》（1650）。她的生平被20世纪著名诗人约翰·伯里曼写进长诗《向布莱兹特里特女士致意》。