Anamacha na Marbh

Anaman nam Marbh

Souls of the Dead

Domhan lán de dhathanna, n’fhacamarna.
Órbhuí chaisearbhán Bhríde, clog an linbh;
Báine nóinín na Bealtaine ina shlabhraí súgartha;
Craorac na fiúise óna líobtar mil shúmhar;
Uachtarphinc mhileanna na ngabhar cumhra;
An feileastram dearg um athoscailt na scoile,
-Ní thugaimidne sa chillín aondathach. 
               
Ach fé ghrian an Mheithimh, tagann beacha
go crónánach, thar teora an chiúnais;                
Eitlíonn feileacáin bhána, go fíorsceabhach,        
Trí scáileanna is tríd an mbreacsholas fén duilliúr,
I ndóchas neachtar a bhaint astu mar dhuais.
 
Domhan làn dhathannan, chan fhaca sinne –
Beàrnan Brìde, gleoc an leanaibh,
Gilead neòinean an usgar-bràghad na Bealltainn,
Deòirean Muire às an òlar mil shùghmhor,
An iadh-shlait chùbhraidh phinc air dath an uachdair,
An seileastair sgàrlaid aig àm fosgladh nan sgoiltean –
Chan aithnichear gin dhiubh seo sa chladh aon-dathach.
 
Ach fo ghrian an Òg-mhìos, falbhaidh seilleanan
A’ crònan thar chrìoch na sàmhchair,
Is fiaraidh dealanan-dè geala air iteig
Tron dubhar is tro bhreacadh nan duilleag
Is iad an dùil ri ìoc-shlàint ann.
We never saw this world full of colour:
Bridget’s yellow dandelion, the child’s clock;
White of daisy in playful May chains;
Amber honey licked from scarlet fuchsia;        
Creamy pink of perfumed honeysuckle;
Montbretia at end of summer holidays;
We don’t make these in the shaded grave.
 
But under June sunshine, bees fly,
Humming, through the border of silence
And white butterflies flit, slantwise,
Through shadows and glimmering foliage
Seeking the reward of nectar.