BEING out of heart with government
I took a broken root to fling
Where the proud, wayward squirrel went,
Taking delight that he could spring;
And he, with that low whinnying sound
That is like laughter, sprang again
And so to the other tree at a bound.
Nor the tame will, nor timid brain,
Nor heavy knitting of the brow
Bred that fierce tooth and cleanly limb
And threw him up to laugh on the bough;
No govermnent appointed him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is Yeats disillusioned with his role in politics. He admires the 'proud and wayward squirrel, ' in every way the opposite of the politicians with whom he deals, with their 'tame will' and 'timid brains.'