HERO SLEEPS

Blackberry sweet your little clustered head,
My little stranger son, my share of life,
Welcome here, and settle in my heart.
Welcome under the rafters of this house,
Morning star, come from afar.
 
What a boon is new blood!
See my small thulking bullman,
Head him off in the doorway,
Or wedge him in a tub – tight as a trout,
I declare! Each limb perfection,
Its beauty a gloss on strength –
 
Your colouring you took from Autumn,
And from the dark rose. You light
All yellows at your approach.
Look, Conor, our son,
Not made to our design but planned
By destinies above.
 
Come here till I hold you, my barley-chick darling.
Lamps are lighting as night draws in.
The red fox is prowling the road.
May no cat from the sea
Send him snapping towards you,
Who are the lighted candle of this house.
 
Enthroned on your sconce of gold,
As you sleep beneath my breast
My love is a wall around you –
Out there in the world
You are beyond my care.
 
What will you bring to protect you?
A charm? A talisman? A taboo?
‘Never trust the white,’
Is the prayer of your people by right.
 
As mothers must, I worry all angles,
Lost in thought, and then,
With a wooden spoon in your fist,
Hero moon flashing above you,
I see coming towards me,
The houndboy from Eamhain
Cúchulainn of the Feats.

Codladh an ghaiscígh

Codladh an ghaiscígh

Ceannaín mogallach milis mar sméar –
A mhaicín iasachta, a chuid den tsaol,
Dé do bheathasa is neadaigh im chroí
Dé do bheathasa fé fhrathacha an tí,
A réilthín maidine tháinig i gcéin.
 
Is maith folaíocht isteach!
Féach mo bhullán beag d’fhear;
Sáraigh sa doras é nó ceap
I dtubán – chomh folláin le breac
Gabhaimse orm! Is gach ball fé rath,
An áilleacht mar bharr ar an neart –
 
Do thugais ón bhfómhar do dhath
Is ón rós crón. Is deas
Gach buí óna chóngas leat.
Féach, a Chonchúir, ár mac,
Ní mar beartaíodh ach mar cheap
Na cumhachta in airde é ’theacht.
 
Tair go dtím bachlainn, a chircín eornan,
Tá an lampa ar lasadh is an oíche ag tórmach,
Tá an mada rua ag siúl an bóthar,
Nár sheola aon chat mara ag snapadh é id threosa,
Nuair gur tú coinneal an teaghlaigh ar choinnleoirín óir duit.
 
Id shuan duit fém borlach
Is fál umat mo ghean –
Ar do chamachuaird má sea
Fuar agam bheith dhed bhrath.
 
Cén chosaint a bhéarfair leat?
Artha? Leabharúin? Nó geas?
‘Ná taobhaigh choíche an geal,’
Paidir do chine le ceart.
 
Ar nós gach máthar seal
Deinim mo mhachnamh thart
Is le linn an mheabhruithe
Siúd spíonóig mhaide id ghlaic!
Taibhrítear dom go pras
An luan láich os do chneas
I leith is gur chugham a bheadh,
Garsúinín Eamhna, Cú na gCleas!