About Muse fiery satire!
Come to my battle-cry!
I do not need thundering lira,
Handed me the scourge of Juvenal!
Not cold imitators,
Not hungry translators,
Not unanswered Rhymer
Cook epigram ulcers!
Peace to you, unhappy poets,
Peace to you, coffee minions,
Peace to you, humble fools!
And you, guys scoundrels, —
Forward! All your scum will
I torment penalty of shame!
But, if someone forget,
I beg to remind, gentlemen!
ABOUT, how many people shamelessly pale,
ABOUT, foreheads as widely-copper
Ready to take away from me
indelible stamp!
