Sealgairí

 

Cé go bhfuilim gan cheol gan chodladh

Gan chairde, sin mé socair i gcónaí,

Sáil mar a bhfuil scol na lon

Agus bréagaireacht na sionnach

Agus crocaireacht na mbroc,

Dordán is búir na ndamh san eas thall

Ós aoibhne liom idir dhaimh i bhfeánna

Agus rith leis an damh rua

Thar an ré is leis na héin,

Guth chearc fhraoigh an tsléibhe,

Na ngearg agus na ngiúrann,

An rón ramhar, an míol má nach mall

Mar nach bhfuil fáil ar sheastán

Is gáir seilge na sochaí

Ó Shliabh Fuaidh go hÉadan Tairbh,

Léadaireacht na mac tíre

Is nuair a thagann geimhreadh donáil na gcon

Is na cúig cinn úd sa gcnoc

Is mé beo ar sheamsán is shamhadh

Oíche reo réaltanach. 

 

 

 

Although I don’t get any songmusic or sleep and I don’t have any respitefriends, that’s me stillalways steadyquiet and heeltapeasycosy among the ouzelelks’ call and the foxes cunninglieclicketlatrating and messbadgers’ crockshriking, the homechampionox-stags’ bassdronechant and lowbellowshouting in the erminewater-fall overby since I prefer to be bothbetweenamong homechampionox-stags in woods and run wtih the red homechampionox-stag across the moonageplain and with the birds, the censurevoice of the Jovemoormountainheathergrousechick, the quails and teredobarnacle-geese, the thick horse-hairseals and far-from-tardy plaininsecthares where there’s no societycrowd standclamour or spleenquestprolehunting cry from the Fews to Edentariff, landsonwolves’ rending and when winter comes the championhound-dogs’ yelping and the mad Armagh bums in the hill as I quicklive on rivetdroneclover and sorrel on a starry hoarfrosty night.