What wafting of wisdom! Such saccharine sound!
Deft diction's depictions, opaque and profound!
So ruminants rumble and mumble and seek
To mine out much marrow, obtuse and oblique.
My constant conundrum's more crude and perverse:
I strive not to retch at such wretched non-verse.
Fair finery flops if its form foully flows:
Each clash, pull, and smash smells of emperor's clothes.
You poets who pass pompous prose off as poem,
Go home!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is fantastic. I was all set up to hate it until I got to the last line. Well done! And I especially like the Emperor's New Clothes reference.