The Jaguar -- Hughes

The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun.

The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut

Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut.

Fatigued with indolence, tiger and lion

Lie still as the sun. The boa-constrictor’s coil

Is a fossil. Cage after cage seems empty, or

Stinks of sleepers from the breathing straw.

It might be painted on a nursery wall.

But who runs like the rest past these arrives

At a cage where the crowd stands, stares, mesmerized,

As a child at a dream, at a jaguar hurrying enraged

Through prison darkness after the drills of his eyes

On a short fierce fuse. Not in boredom—

The eye satisfied to be blind in fire,

By the bang of blood in the brain deaf the ear—

He spins from the bars, but there’s no cage to him

More than to the visionary his cell:

His stride is wildernesses of freedom:

The world rolls under the long thrust of his heel.

Over the cage floor the horizons come.

Poem by the husband of Sylvia Plath, not as famous as she, but probably only because he wasn't a giant drama queen.* Notably this poem deals with basically the same theme as Rilke's The Panther, but this one is much better. I anticipate someone telling me that the only reason I think this is because I can't really appreciate The Panther since I can't read German (yet). But I have already dealt with the subject of translated poetry, so you can all just suck it.

* I don't really mean that. I adore Plath.