Neither have I doused my lips in the nag's spring nor do I remember to have dreamed on twin-peaked Parnassus so that I should suddenly come forth in this way [as] a poet. I leave the daughters of Mt. Helicon and pale Pirene to those whose images pliant ivy wreathes. I myself, a half-peasant, bring my poem to the festival of bards. Who made it easy for a parrot [to say] its "hello" (lit, made its "hello" easy for a parrot) and taught a magpie to try [to speak] human (lit, our) words? [That] teacher of skill and bestower of talent, the stomach, [which is] an expert in imitating forbidden words. Moreover, if the hope of deceitful money has appeared (lit, shone), you would believe that the raven poets and magpie poetesses were singing [pure] Pegasean nectar.
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