Wishin' you a pot o' gold.......
and all the joy your heart can hold.
There is hope for all of us.
Well, anyway, if you don't die you live
through it, day in, day out.
' A Belfast Woman'
Mary Beckett-1926
'Summer'
Maidad glass for cach lus,
bilech doss daire glais;
tánic sam, ro fáith gam,
goinit dam cuilinn chais.
Green burst out of every plant;
leafy is the shoot of the green oakwood.
Summer has come, winter gone,
twisted hollies hurt the stag.
---
'Winter'
Siùbhladh ar iasc Inse Fáil
ní fhuil tráigh nach tiobrann tonn;
a mbrógaibh nocha tá broc
ní leir cloch,
ní labhair corr.
The fish of Ireland are in motion.
There is no strand the waves do not pound.
There is no badger in the lands;
no stony path is clear,
no crane talks.
Anon. 10th Century |
