Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
The visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobbling than is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save homespun cloth i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam.
In critic’s hands beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.
ስትፀነስ ጀምሮ የቅርፅ ህፀፅ
የሚስተዋልብህ አንተ የአይምሮዪ ክፋይ፣
"ሀ" ብለህ ይህን ዓለም ስታይ፣
ታማኝነት በጎደላቸው ጓደኞቼ
እስክትውል አደባባይ ፣
ቡትቶ ደርበህ ፣
የህትመት ብርሀን አየህ
ለጀማ ሂስ የሚጋለጥበት አድሮ!
አንተ መልቲ (በህትመት)
ቀላል ሀፍረት አላገኘኝ!
አይን ስለምትጎረብጥ በእይታ ማእዘን፣
ገሸሽ ማረግ መርጬ ነበር አንተን፣
ግና የእኔ ስለሆንክ ስሱነት፣
ከቻልኩ እንዳርቅህ ገፋፋኝ፣ በሂደት፣
ፊትህን ሳጥበው ወጡ ህፀጾች ጎልተው ፣
ዝም ብያ ሳፀዳ ብቅ አለ ሌላ ህፀጽ እንግዳ
እግር ልሰራልህ ስጥር፣
አካሄድህ ፋይዳ ቢስ የሚያሽቀነጥር!
እኔማ በልክህ ጨርቅ ቆርጬ
ልቀይርልህ ነበር ያን ቡትቶ፣
ግና ቤት የተፈተለ ሸማ
ላገኝ አልቻልኩም ከቶ፣
እናም ለብሰህ ይህን ድሪቶ፣
ከወፍ ዘራሾች ጋር ዙር ተደብልቀህ፣
ሃያሲዎች እንዳያገኙህ ሸሽተህ !
ካስጨነቁህ ስለእናትህ ማንነት
"ልጅዋን የሽኘች በምስኪንነት !”
ትርጉም ዓለም ሃይሉ
ደራሲዎች አንዳንዴ ህቡ በሆነው የሰው ልጅ አይምሮ የሚንቀሳቀስን እንደነውር የሚታይ ሃሳብን በፈጠራ ስራ ይገልጻሉ። ስራው ቢታይብን ብለው ይፈራሉ ! /
Anne Bradstreet wrote in the Elizabethan literary tradition and became one of the first poets to write English verse in the American colonies
Writers and poets sometimes pen down what lurks in their subconscious and become afraid the vulnerability of print.I think most of us share this.I experienced this fact after I wrote my poem No ****** no ***!
why do some poems enjoy a mammoth hit but no comment?I think even if readers appreciate some poems they become afraid to associate themselves with the theme,which may be considered as a taboo .I also wonder why some poems are treated with a cold shoulder in some blogs and enjoy appreciation in others.Is it because a difference of taste?
Anyway the aforementioned poem has given me a good lesson; what about you?If you are interested on this issue goggle and read about psychoanalytical criticism and reader response criticism.Thank you for your patience