1.
Let me spit in your face for lacking conscience and grace,
Says the holy yet furious pen.
2.
You weave words for big shots for they throw butter and breads.
Like men in black coat you fight, eager to prove yourself right.
Let me spit for you fight.
3.
Let me spit, for your pendulous moves: Left and Right.
As you write for the Right, As you write for the Left, As you write for both.
Yet unaware who is right.
Let me spit for you write.
4.

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These are my modern English translations of poems by the French poet Stephane Mallarme, including his elegy for Egar Allan Poe. 

The Tomb of Edgar Poe
by Stéphane Mallarmé
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Transformed into himself by Death, at last,
the Bard unsheathed his Art’s recondite blade
to duel with dullards, blind & undismayed,
who’d never heard his ardent Voice, aghast!