A thousand times, yes!
There is code out there so elegant and pure that, after painstakingly pulling apart its pieces and analyzing each choice of word like a Robert Frost poem, we're left feeling like we've seen a face of God.
When debugging in the middle of the night because an alarm went off or a customer is angry, T. S. Elliot is absolutely the last thing I want to see. When I want to maintain a large system quickly, I want to be treated like I'm 5. I don't want Shakespeare. I don't even want Shakespeare for Dummies. I want "Dick and Jane Process a Customer Order."
I absolutely agree with the author that when I say "This code is unreadable," I actually mean "I haven’t spent enough time trying to read," but time is something I don't have. My coworkers and I will likely read the same code many times. We only have so much time to spend reading code. Code that takes a lot of time to read is bad. We do not have time to keep studying the code until it is no longer unreadable.
We are more than willing to invest quite a lot of additional time writing the code to make the time it takes to read the code as low as conceivably possible. Heck, with a small handful of exceptions, I will happily trade quite a bit of performance for simplicity.
Sure, if you're Terje Mathisen, and you're writing Quake 3, and Polyhymnia or Velvel Kahan descend from Mt. Helicon singing of inverse square roots and the number 0x5f3759df, and you happen to be trying to optimize a 3D game engine, sure, write poetry. Ages and ages hence, we shall read of your algorithm by the fireside and slowly smile as a blog explains to us why it is brilliant. Sing on! But if you're writing a normal program that's gonna be maintained frequently by normal people, you call security. That muse does not have a badge. She does not work here. There is a clear "no children of Mnemosyne" sign in the lobby.