Poem
Áine Uí Fhoghlú
Ar an imeall
No tree grows on the marginal slopewhere a seafaring people measure
each day by the way of the wind.
From the edge of Faill a’ Stáicín
the heavenly blue
the torquoise tide
nets in the distance
shimmer and search
light drenches
the foam-tipped waves.
The tapestry of land
is ruled by
the handcrafting
of the elements
little fields divided
whose rib-like ridges
could only
yield potatoes
zigzags
rectangles
skewed triangles
and the circle of life
like threads in the warp with their
chestnut
yellow-rust
verdant
purple
the wheaten weft
the honeyed gold
the memories of rocks
will whisper the words:
….the Sheep’s Cliff
the Pool of Light
the Dog’s Rock
the Piper’s Cliff.....
and when furze flowers
the countryside blushes with joy,
does the dance of its soul
on the hearthstone of life.
© Translation: 2014, Áine Uí Fhoghlú
The poet (and translator) wishes to state that she views these translations as a means of insight unto the original text rather than as fully fledged literary works in themselves.
Ar an imeall
Ar an imeall
Ní fhásann crann ar shleas imeallachmar a dtomhaiseann pobal muirí
gach lá le treo na gaoithe.
Ó bhruach Fhaill a’ Stáicín
an gorm neamhaí
glasghorm na taoide
crithloinnir ar líonta
i gcéin ag cuardach
steallann solas
ar chúr na dtonn.
Tá táipéis na talún
faoi réir ag
lámhcheardaíocht
na ndúl
na páircíní roinnte
ná fáiscfí as easnaíocha
a gcuid iomairí
feasta ach an práta
fiarláin
dronuilleoga
triantáin sceamhacha
is ciorcal na beatha
mar shnátha sa dlúth lena
gcrón
buírua
úrghlas
corcar
san inneach an chruithneacht
an t-órú meala
cuimhní na gcloch
ag cogar na bhfocal:
….Faill na gCaorach
Gaibhlín a’ tSolais
Carraig a’ Mhadra
Faill a’ Phíobaire.....
is nuair a bláthaíonn aiteann
tagann luisne ar ghnúis na dúiche
ag rince seit na beatha
ar theallach an tsaoil.
© 2011, Áine Uí Fhoghlú
From: Ar an imeall
Publisher: Coiscéim, Dublin
From: Ar an imeall
Publisher: Coiscéim, Dublin
Poems
Poems of Áine Uí Fhoghlú
Close
Ar an imeall
No tree grows on the marginal slopewhere a seafaring people measure
each day by the way of the wind.
From the edge of Faill a’ Stáicín
the heavenly blue
the torquoise tide
nets in the distance
shimmer and search
light drenches
the foam-tipped waves.
The tapestry of land
is ruled by
the handcrafting
of the elements
little fields divided
whose rib-like ridges
could only
yield potatoes
zigzags
rectangles
skewed triangles
and the circle of life
like threads in the warp with their
chestnut
yellow-rust
verdant
purple
the wheaten weft
the honeyed gold
the memories of rocks
will whisper the words:
….the Sheep’s Cliff
the Pool of Light
the Dog’s Rock
the Piper’s Cliff.....
and when furze flowers
the countryside blushes with joy,
does the dance of its soul
on the hearthstone of life.
© 2014, Áine Uí Fhoghlú
From: Ar an imeall
From: Ar an imeall
Ar an imeall
No tree grows on the marginal slopewhere a seafaring people measure
each day by the way of the wind.
From the edge of Faill a’ Stáicín
the heavenly blue
the torquoise tide
nets in the distance
shimmer and search
light drenches
the foam-tipped waves.
The tapestry of land
is ruled by
the handcrafting
of the elements
little fields divided
whose rib-like ridges
could only
yield potatoes
zigzags
rectangles
skewed triangles
and the circle of life
like threads in the warp with their
chestnut
yellow-rust
verdant
purple
the wheaten weft
the honeyed gold
the memories of rocks
will whisper the words:
….the Sheep’s Cliff
the Pool of Light
the Dog’s Rock
the Piper’s Cliff.....
and when furze flowers
the countryside blushes with joy,
does the dance of its soul
on the hearthstone of life.
© 2014, Áine Uí Fhoghlú
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