我未经训练的足尖，

不能如舞者般翩跹，

但我不受限的意识，

却时时感受起舞的喜悦。

我幻想的芭蕾舞鞋，

带我走遍世界，

托起我单足旋转，

使所有的舞团失色，

让每一个首席黯然。

他们那些迷人的小把戏，

我都不会耍——

长裙、薄纱、俏皮的小鬈发，

像鸟儿一样扑向观众，

脚爪又停在半空。

轻盈得不惊起一片羽绒，

不在雪地留下半点行踪，

我就这样退场，悄无声息，

直至大剧院掌声雷动。

这技艺我纯熟又深藏，

不曾为人所知。

正如世间那么多海报，

贴满了所有的剧场，

却还不曾有一束灯光，

把我的名字照亮。

I cannot dance upon my Toes -

No Man instructed me -

But oftentimes, among my mind

A Glee possesseth me

That had I Ballet knowledge -

Would put itself abroad

In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe -

Or lay a Prima, mad

And though I had no Gown of Gauze -

No Ringlet, to my Hair

Nor hopped to Audiences - like Birds

One Claw upon the Air

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls

Nor rolled on wheels of snow

Till I was out of sight, in sound

The House encore me so -

Nor any know I know the Art

I mention - easy - Here -

Nor any Placard boast me -

It's full as Opera –