I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.

I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower.

When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot. My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man.

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking, Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were lacking.

I dote on myself. There is a lot of me and all so luscious.

Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn, A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding; And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.

O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done.