加夫列拉·米斯特拉爾（Gabriela?Mistral，1889-1957），智利著名女诗人。她未曾进过学校大门，自学成才后进入教育界工作，当过老师和中学校长。她从9岁写诗，14岁即开始发表作品，其作品《死亡的十四行》使其一举成名，而1922年出版的处女诗集《绝望》《柔情》让其奠定了在智利诗坛上的地位。此后她转入外交和文化界工作，出使过一些国家，并在大学讲学。她的后期诗集有《有刺的树》（1938）和《葡萄压榨机》（1954）等多部。她于1945年获得诺贝尔文学奖，成为拉丁美洲第一位获得此奖的诗人。
乌?龟
傻瓜在每一次关于前进的交谈中影射它，批评那种可爱的缓慢。
它在这个正方形的天井中生活了40年，那里只有一棵茉莉花树和一个干涸的水盆。相比一段鲑鱼能在8天游过的距离，它再也不了解上帝的世界。
在它那个地方，他们到处铺撒了锃亮的沙子；它用胸脯触及沙子。沙子美妙地吱嘎作响，像缓流的水滑行。
它从那个小海滩走向一个微不足道的短草的广场，它就像熟悉沙子那样熟悉那个广场。这两种生物——沙子和短草，在它看来就像是两个惬意的神祇。
它从水洼中无声地饮水。它看着那好像落进水里的天空。天空似乎像它那样宁静。它听见茉莉花树中的风声。一些黄叶飘落，触摸它的背，在它的外壳下，某种凉爽的东西进入它。然后它缩回去。
一只老旧的手给它带来食物；另一只新颖的手用鹅卵石击中它的外壳……
聪明的手把愚蠢的手移走。
在某个时候，沙子闪耀，水闪烁。然后地面的颜色跟它一样，于是它就睡着了。这个寂静者了解世界，非常了解世界。
所有其他东西都干什么事情；水盆滴水，草丛长起。在它内心，好像一切都没改变。没有改变？即使它并不知道，它的外壳也会增厚；如果它知道，它就会震惊。
最终它死了。整整一天都没人注意到什么；它仅仅好像更缓慢……它的脑袋进入它那小小的棺材；它的脚缩进它的盒子。沙子意识到它又萎缩了一点。
他们让它在空气中风干。后来，他们又把它掏空。现在桌子上有一个宽敞的外壳，一个旧铁瓮，充满沉默。
THE?TORTOISE
Fools?allude?to?her?in?every?conversation?about?progress，?critiquing?that?lovely?slowness.
She?has?lived?for?forty?years?in?this?square?patio，?which?has?only?one?jasmine?tree?and?one?dry?water?basin.?She?knows?no?more?of?Gods?world?than?the?distance?a?salmon?can?swim?in?eight?days.
Throughout?her?place?they?have?spread?a?polished?sand;?she?touches?it?and?touches?it?with?her?breast.?The?sand?creaks?sweetly?and?slides?like?slow?water.
She?walks?from?the?little?beach?to?a?square?of?insignificant?short?grass?that?is?as?familiar?to?her?as?the?sand?is.?These?two?creatures，?sand?and?short?grass，?seem?to?her?like?two?sweet?gods.
Soundlessly，?she?drinks?from?the?puddle.?She?looks?at?the?sky，?which?seems?fallen?in?the?water.?The?sky?seems?tranquil，?like?her.?She?hears?the?wind?in?the?jasmine.?Some?yellow?leaves?fall;?they?touch?her?back，?and?something?cool?enters?her，?under?her?shell.?Then?she?draws?back.
An?old?hand?brings?her?food;?another?new?one?hits?her?on?the?shell?with?pebbles……The?intelligent?hand?takes?the?foolish?one?away.
The?sand?shines?intensely?at?a?certain?time，?and?the?water?glitters.?Then?the?ground?is?the?same?color?as?she?is，?and?so?she?falls?asleep.?The?still?one?knows?the?world，?knows?it?very?well.
All?the?other?things?do?something;?the?basin?drips，?and?the?grass?rises.?In?her，?it?seems，?nothing?changes.?Doesnt?change？?Even?though?she?doesnt?know?it，?her?shell?thickens;?she?would?be?astounded?if?she?knew?this.
At?last?she?has?died.?For?a?whole?day?no?one?noticed?anything;?she?only?seemed?slower……Her?head?entered?her?little?casket;?her?feet?went?into?her?case.?The?sand?realized?she?had?shrunk?a?little?more.
They?let?her?dry?out?in?the?air.?Later?they?emptied?her.?Now?on?the?table?there?is?a?spacious?shell，?an?urn?of?old?iron，?filled?with?silence.
面?粉
面粉发光，光滑而又重要。
清晰的米粉，像精美的丝绸沙沙作响；被称为玉米淀粉的面粉，清新如雨雪，舒缓烧伤。从谦卑的土豆中，面粉滑溜如银。如此光滑的面粉！
沉重的面粉，用稻米或黑麦谷粒的悲伤制成，沉重如泥土，那能为无辜生物创造银河的泥土本身。
光滑的面粉，比水更沉默地滑行，能在一个赤裸的孩子身上撒过，也不会把他惊醒。
面粉清晰，光滑而又重要。
母亲般的面粉，乳汁真正的姐妹，几乎是一个女人，一位中产阶级家庭的母亲，一头白发，乳房丰满，坐在陽光明媚的门口。她就是那创造孩子肉体的人。她完全具有女性气质，就像橡胶或白垩那样阴性；如果你对她哼唱一支摇篮曲，她就会辨识出来；她理解一切具有女性气质的东西。
她被独自留在世界上，用浑圆的乳房喂养这颗行星。
她还能把自己变成一座乳汁的山，一座平缓的山，所有的孩子都从上面翻滚又翻滚而下。
母亲面粉也是一位永恒的少女，在稻田的褶皱中来回摆动，一个小女孩，无形的风没有看见她就跟她嬉戏，没让她意识到就抚摸她的脸。
清晰的面粉。一个人可以把它撒在贫穷、幽暗、古老的大地上，而她会予以回报，生长出一片片宽阔的雏菊地，或者用霜降来打扮。
面粉清晰，光滑而又重要。
如果她行走，没有人会听见它那棉花般的脚重重落在泥土中的声音；如果她要跳舞，她那沉甸甸的手臂就会落下；如果她想歌唱，歌声就会寄存在她那粗壮的喉咙中。但她并没行走，或跳舞，或歌唱。如果她想要名字，那么我们就得给她发明一个包含着三个B的或者三个M的名字。
FLOUR
Flour?is?luminous，?smooth，?and?weighty.
Clear?rice?flour，?which?rustles?like?fine?silk;?the?one?thats?called?cornstarch，?as?fresh?as?sleet?and?that?eases?burns.?From?the?humble?potato，?flour?as?slippery?as?silver.?Such?smooth?flours！
Heavy?flour，?made?from?the?grief?of?the?grains?of?rice?or?rye，?is?as?heavy?as?the?earth，?the?earth?itself?that?can?make?Milky?Ways?for?guiltless?creatures.
Smooth?flour，?sliding?more?silently?than?water，?can?sift?across?a?naked?child?without?waking?him.
Flour?is?clear，?smooth，?and?weighty.
Maternal?flour，?milks?true?sister，?almost?a?woman，?a?middle-class?domestic?mother?with?white?hair?and?full?breast，?seated?in?a?sunny?doorway.?She?is?the?one?who?creates?the?flesh?of?children.?She?is?completely?womanly，?as?female?as?rubber?or?chalk;?she?recognizes?a?lullaby?if?you?hum?it?to?her;?she?understands?all?womanly?things.
Left?alone?with?the?world，?she?would?feed?the?planet?with?her?round?breasts.
She?can?also?turn?herself?into?a?mountain?of?milk，?a?gentle?mountain?down?which?all?the?children?tumble?and?tumble.
The?mother-flour?is?also?an?eternal?girl，?rocked?in?the?great?folds?of?the?rice?paddies，?a?little?girl?with?whom?the?invisible?winds?play?without?seeing?her，?stroking?her?face?without?her?realizing?it.
Clear?flour.?One?could?dust?it?over?the?poor，?dark，?ancient?earth，?and?she?would?yield?back?wide?fields?of?daisies，?or?shed?dress?it?in?frost.
Flour?is?clear，?smooth，?and?weighty.
If?she?walked，?no?one?would?hear?her?cottony?feet?as?they?sank，?weightily，?into?the?earth;?if?she?were?to?dance，?her?heavy?arms?would?fall;?if?she?wanted?to?sing，?the?song?would?lodge?in?her?thick?throat.?But?she?doesnt?walk，?or?dance，?or?sing.?If?she?wanted?a?name，?wed?have?to?invent?a?name?for?her?containing?three?Bs?or?three?gentle?Ms.
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