Al túmulo de Écija,
en las honras de la Señora Reina doña Margarita

¿Qué Dédalo te induce peregrino
a coronar de nubes el meollo,
si las ondas, que el Betis de su escollo
desata, ha de infamar tu desatino?

No des más cera al sol, que es bobería,
funeral avestruz, máquina alada,
ni alimentes gacetas en Europa.

Aguarda a la ciudad, que a mediodía,
si masse Duelo no en capirotada,
la servirá masse Bochorno en sopa.

To the catafalque at Écija,
in honor of Queen Margarita

What Dedalus in his odd way induced you
to crown with clouds the intellect itself,
if those waves, which Betis from its reefs
unlooses, will disgrace your foolish acts?

Don't give the sun more wax, for it is folly,
funereal ostrich, structure sporting wings,
nor feed the press of Europe with this scoop.

Wait for the town, where at the noonday hour
if old chef Mourning won't cloak it in batter,
chef Sweat is sure to serve it up in soup.

                     (©Alix Ingber, 1995)