Let Sampson Make a Weapon Out of This

The reason no reasoning

Can lead reasonable men
To conclude, composed Gongora,

At peace, is that the madness
Of these apes lies in their speeches
And the reason flying from them.

This is the last, forever
Unwritten and unwritable, most
Widely known solitude:

That because I wrote
My mind, I lost my mind,
Or, the same, I came to know

No mind is its own, much,
Much less than that belonging
To the jawbone of an ass

Who swings it about his head,
Bolas, bolo, bolero, words knotted
To bring down what can't be

Caught, fractured lost astragali,
Little lambs' feet tossed, to find,
I, none, and all this all aligned.