t h e  g r e a t  b o o k  o f  g a e l i c

a n  l e a b h a r  m r

 


Neach-ealain / Artist: Will Maclean
Snas-sgrobhadair / Calligrapher: Frances Breen
Eadar-theangaichte aig / Translator: The Author
Roghainn / Nominator: The Author

 

caith a h-uile clach gu lr,
leig leis an luibhe fs -
tha anail fhathast san fhonn

mch an teanga le smachd,
cm an aigne fo dheachd -
srad dbhlain fhathast sa chom

chan fhaighear sruth
nach gilain soitheach

cuir pr, mar chuimhne,
anns an t-soitheach

mar anail sluaighe
anns an t-soitheach

a gilain dachaigh
anns an t-soitheach

doire rd
     nan darach ruighinn
          thinig coinneal sl
               sa churach sheang

bu cholum soitheach
     dhan an t--sol
          a thinig thar
               na maoile nall

bhrchd an sol a-mach
     air leathad s lios
          na dhuilleach gorm,
               mar dhannsair dn

bu siud an sruth
a sgaoil tron tr

chaidh cainnt na tuath
air feadh na tr

chaidh cumhachd fios
air feadh na tr

sgaoil duilleach fios
air feadh gach tr

s ged a chaillte
brr nan leus,
anns a cheathach liath
a dhfhg lasair dhubh
nan mpireachd,
bha luchd a phir
na shruth fo ghrunnd

chm snithleanan
de shileadh fann
sibhlachd a ghuth
tro uaimh a chridh,
sheinn an guth nach trig
grian nan altramas
do bhlth nan leus

an do chunntais thu,
a cholmain din,
na do long sheang sheice,
na lithean loma
a thigeadh oirnn
bhon a shel thu
thar na maoile,
le do leabhar mr grise
suaint nad chnan,
sgiath do-shthte
an aghaidh lom-sgrob

s ged a dhfhalbh an cobair,
ged a dhfhalbh an treabhaiche,
dhfhuirich an tobhta, na cochall
a feitheamh an t-sl

agus seall, ann an seo, eadar
coille beithe s cuan a bhradain,
a chlach s a ghlainne
g irigh mar na blthan ra,
solas rach na h-ath-bhliadhna,
dn an dchais, dn a gheallaidh
 

 

cast every stone to the ground,
let the weeds grow wild
theres a breath remains in the earth

still the tongue with force,
keep the mind oppressed
the body will not be a corpse

every current
will carry a vessel

put a seed, like memory,
into the vessel

like the breath of a people
in the vessel

carrying a home
in the vessel

from high derry
     of tenacious oaks
          a seed-candle came
               in the slender coracle

a dove was vessel
     for the seed
          that came across
               the bald-browed sea

that seed burst out
     on slope and lawn,
          its green green leaves
               like a dancer, bold

that was the stream
spread through the land

a peoples words
went through the land

the power of knowledge
went through the land

the leaves of knowledge
through every land

and though the light
had lost its peak,
in the grey mist trail
of the black black flame
of empire states,
the seeds cargo
flowed underground

the smallest threads
of flowing veins
kept the fluid voice
through a cave of pain,
the unquenchable voice
sang a nursing sun
for the bloom of light

and did you count,
bold dove,
in your slender ship of skin,
the leanest days
that fell on us
since you sailed out
across the moil, with
your great embroidered book
wrapped in your language,
impenetrable shield
against devastation

and though the shepherd went,
though the ploughman left,
this ruin remained, like a husk
awaiting its seed

and see, over here, between
birch wood and salmon sea,
all the glass and stone
rising like new blossoms,
the golden light of next year,
fort of hopes, fort of promise

 

 

poem index An Leabhar Mr cover page next poem

 

next article


contents download subscribe archive