Presidency poem
Filleadh ar an gCathair Anocht ag filleadh dom blaisim allas na cathrach faram. Deas liom a taiseacht. Preabann an Aimsir Láithreach gan aire ó gach balla i mbrothall an tráthnóna. Admhaím go músclaíonn gás sceite sceitimíní ionam. Is fíor nach gcítear luí na gréine i bhfairsing’ spéire: cacann an oíche idir fhoirgnimh arda gan rabhadh; ach lasann soilse neon cúinní coimhthíocha mo chroí. Faoiseamh a gheobhadsa ar mo ghrianán gealaí, mo chluas le hamhrán tráchta. |
Citybound Returning tonight I can taste the city’s sweat around me. I like its sweetness. The Present Tense bounces recklessly off walls in the heat of the afternoon. I admit toxic fumes intoxicate me. Although you don’t see the setting sun here in the vast expanse of sky Night plunges between tall buildings without warning. but neon lights light up the foreign corners of my heart. Faoiseamha gheobhadsa* on a moonlit ledge my ear tuned to traffic’s song. |
*Faoiseamha gheobhadsa’ is the title of a poem by MáirtínÓ Direáinin which he describes the respite he feels upon returning to his island home of InisMór.
Trans: AilbheNíGhearbhuigh
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