Poem
Máire Mhac an tSaoi
THE BURIAL OF THE POET’S DAUGHTER
What an assembly of the old!Of tangled grey hair!
Of stooped backs and rheumatism!
Of baldness, wrinkles and weak eyes!
Their youth unrecognisable now –
Experts at death this poetic band.
But at the base of the altar
Where the coffin was laid
The glass houses of sorrow!
The teeming colours of Spring!
Blue, yellow and rose!
The sisters are weeping –
Cries like an awl piercing the heart –
But high in the rafters
I hear the bell of her laughter
Silvered and beautiful.
Old age is the common fate;
She chose the opposite.
© Translation: 2011, Peter Sirr
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin, 2011
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin, 2011
ADHLACADH INÍON AN FHILE
ADHLACADH INÍON AN FHILE
Comhthalán daoine críonna!Léithe in aimhréití ar bhaitheas!
Droinn agus dathacha! Maoile!
Roic agus múchadh súl!
Scáil a n-óige ó aithne –
Foghlaim na dáimhe seo an bás.
Ach age bun altórach
San áit ar leagadh an chomhra
Tithe gloine an bhróin!
Raidhse dhathanna an Earraigh!
Gorm, buí agus rós!
Tá na driféaracha ag gol –
Éamh mar mheanaithe i gcroí –
Ach ins na fraitheacha in airde
Cloisim cloigín a gáire
Airgeadtha agus álainn.
Baineann seanaois le coiteann;
Roghnaigh sise a mhalairt.
© 2011, Máire Mhac an tSaoi
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin
Poems
Poems of Máire Mhac an tSaoi
Close
THE BURIAL OF THE POET’S DAUGHTER
What an assembly of the old!Of tangled grey hair!
Of stooped backs and rheumatism!
Of baldness, wrinkles and weak eyes!
Their youth unrecognisable now –
Experts at death this poetic band.
But at the base of the altar
Where the coffin was laid
The glass houses of sorrow!
The teeming colours of Spring!
Blue, yellow and rose!
The sisters are weeping –
Cries like an awl piercing the heart –
But high in the rafters
I hear the bell of her laughter
Silvered and beautiful.
Old age is the common fate;
She chose the opposite.
© 2011, Peter Sirr
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: 2011, O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: 2011, O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin
THE BURIAL OF THE POET’S DAUGHTER
What an assembly of the old!Of tangled grey hair!
Of stooped backs and rheumatism!
Of baldness, wrinkles and weak eyes!
Their youth unrecognisable now –
Experts at death this poetic band.
But at the base of the altar
Where the coffin was laid
The glass houses of sorrow!
The teeming colours of Spring!
Blue, yellow and rose!
The sisters are weeping –
Cries like an awl piercing the heart –
But high in the rafters
I hear the bell of her laughter
Silvered and beautiful.
Old age is the common fate;
She chose the opposite.
© 2011, Peter Sirr
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: 2011, O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin
From: The Miraculous Parish / An Paróiste Míorúilteach
Publisher: 2011, O\'Brien Press / Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Dublin
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