Against Góngora
What capture you, nocturnal, in your ballads,
fool Góngora, crepusculating them,
if when you want to heronfluctuate them,
they're merely reptilized and subterposed?
I microcosmate you God of the pedants;
and you want them certify your worth
like bovines, antiquations or stigmata,
just so novitiate bards you'll decompose.
You exoticity is so commensurate,
that he who ruminates you must detract you,
since you eruct entrailings of turdalchemy,
pharmacofoliating like a numiate,
with your stomachabundance emanating,
you metamorphosize the archacadumy.
Translated by Alix Ingber
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