I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
Why do I need your paces when I myself can out-gallop them?
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.
* * * * *
I too, am not a bit tamed, I too, am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest, and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,