She tries to refute the praises inscribed on her portrait by Truth, which she calls passion

by

Juana Ines De La Cruz



This, that you see, this colorful treachery,

which, by displaying all the charms of art,

with those false syllogisms of its colors

deceptively subverts the sense of sight;


this, in which false praise has sought in vain

to avoid the horrors of the passing years,

and conquering time’s cruelty,

to overcome age and oblivion's might,


is a vain artifice cautiously wrought,

is a fragile flower caught in the wind,

is totally useless for warding off fate;


is a foolish effort that has gone awry,

is a weakened zeal, and, seen correctly,

is a corpse, is dust, is gloom…is nothingness.



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