Poetry International Poetry International
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. 

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. 
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. 

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. 
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère