I gCluain na heorna tá na smólaigh ag dúiseacht
san fhéithleog is sna hEanaigh Gheala, tá an bhrídeach sí ag éirí
sioc bán ar talamh mar shrólmhín is síoda uirthi.

Filleann an bonnán buí
athuair ar an chluain
Cluinim ceol na ngiolcach
taobh an tsrutháin.

Éiríonn sí leis na fuiseoga ó bhreacadh an lae.
Téann sí faoi cheilt sna fearnóga.
Eitlíonn sí thar an mhuine bheoláin
machairí thíos fúithi.

Chím í san fheascar, an bhrídeach sí
posae ina glaic,
ag filleadh le fuineadh na gréine.


Barley Meadow

In Barley Meadow the thrushes are waking
in the vine in the Bright Marshes, the fairy bride is rising
white frost on the ground as smooth satin and silk on her.

The bittern returns
again to the meadow
I hear the music of the reeds
beside the stream.

She rises with the larks from day break.
She hides among the alders.
She flies over the scrubland
level ground beneath her.

I see her in the evening, the fairy bride
with a posy in her hand,
returning with the setting sun.

–Translated from the Irish by Colm Breathnach