Ina dTost

Nan Tost

Silent

Siúl go socair ar na leaca liatha
Siúl go ciúin ar an gcré féd’ chosa.
 
Fé gach leac tá scéal nár ríomhadh:
I ndiaidh tinneas clainne dhiamhair
Béic bhreithe nár scaoileadh,
Lámh an dealúis agus an éigin á plúcadh.
 
Gol, gáire is giobaireacht nár chualathas
Ó leanbh gur éirigh an ghrian as a chúl;
Planda breá go raibh gus is gealladh ann
A ciorraíodh, ag an gcinniúint.
 
Níor leagadh lámh ar thaisce na gcuimhní,
Níor lú gur bhog an pobal a bhéal air,
Is iomaí croí scólta thug a bhac don gcill
Nó a lig a rún, ar éigean, i mbéala báis.
 
Siúl go socair mar a bhfuil an tost i réim,
Éist leis an gciúnas ag salmaireacht ann.
 
Coisich gu socair air na leacan liatha,
Coisich gu sèimh air a’ chè fo do chasan.
 
Fo gach lic tha sgeul nach innseadh:
Às dèidh piantan na h-aiseide
Bha èigh breithe nach do leigeadh
Is làmh na bochdainn ’s na h-èiginn ga mùchadh.
 
Caoineadh no gàire cha chualas
On leanabh làn àigh is gealltanais;
Pàiste àlainn san robh neart is spionnadh
Air a leagail, aig an dàn.
 
Cha do bhean làmh ri tasgaidh na cuimhne
Ged nach tàinig smid thar bheul nan daoine,
Agus is iomadh cridhe ciùrrte a thug an ciont dhan uaigh
No a dh’aidich e air uchd a’ bhàis.
 
Coisich gu sèimh far a bheil an rèim aig an tost,
Èist ri sàmhchair ga salmadaireachd ann.
Walk softly on the grey stones,
Walk quietly on the clay under foot.
 
Under every stone is an untold story,
-After fierce pains of child bed
A cry at birth unuttered,
Stifled by hand of poverty and violence.
 
No crying, laughter or childish talk
From his parents’ pride and joy;
A fine child, full of vigour and promise,  
Without warning, cut down, by fate.
 
No hand touched that store of memories,
Any more than mouth ever spoke of it,
So many took their pain to the grave,
Or revealed it, only at death’s door.
 
Walk softly where silence rules.
Listen here to the sing-song of stillness