My Mother
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My Mother Ellen Bryant Voigt my mother my mother my mother she could do anything so she did everything the world was an unplowed（未整修过的） field a dress to be hemmed a scraped knee it needed a casserole（勺皿，砂锅菜） it needed another alto in the choir her motto was apply yourself the secret of life was spreading your gifts why hide your light under a bushel（蒲式耳） you might forget it there in the dark times the lonely times the sun gone down on her resolve she slept a little first so she'd be fresh she put on a little lipstick drawing on her smile she pulled that hair up off her face she pulled her stockings on she stepped into her pumps she took up her matching purse already packed with everything they all would learn they would be nice they would apologize they would be grateful whenever they had forgotten what to pack she never did she had a spare she kissed your cheek she wiped the mark away with her own spit she marched you out again unless you were that awful sort of stubborn broody child who more and more I was who once had been so sweet so mild staying put where she put me what happened must have been the bushel I was hiding in the sun gone down on her resolve she slept a little first so she'd be fresh she pulled her stockings on she'd packed the words for my every lack she had a little lipstick on her teeth the mark on my cheek would not rub off she gave the fluids from her mouth to it she gave the tissues in her ample purse to it I never did apologize I let my sister succor those in need and suffer the little children my mother knew we are self-canceling she gave herself a lifetime C an average grade from then on out she kept the lights on day and night a garden needs the light the sun could not be counted on she slept a little day and night she didn't need her stockings or her purse she watered she weeded she fertilized she stood in front the tallest stalk keeping the deer the birds all the world's idle shameless thieves away |
