Terpsichore looks kindly on me
as I sing noble, heroic things
to the white-robed women of Tanagra,
and the city rejoices mightily
at the keen melody of my voice.

Will you sleep forever?
You were not like that, Corinna,
in the old days.

I blame Myrtis,
gifted though she is,
that she, a woman,
dared take on Pindar.