For half a century
Poetry was the paradise
Of the solemn fool.
Until I came along
And built my roller coaster.
Go up, if you feel like it.
It's not my fault if you come down
Bleeding from your nose and mouth.
by Nicanor Parra, Poems and Antipoems (New Directions, 1966), translated by Miller Williams
[I changed this post because I realized in 2016 I'd posted the same poem, "Young Poets." Not that a good poem, one I've memorized since my youth, shouldn't be posted twice or thrice or a trillion times, but I'm trying not repeat myself. Parra, for me, is one of the unique poets.]