Dá bhféadfainn an cúrán a ithe,
Bheinn ag ithe réiltíní farraige,
Friuchta go bog ar an ngrian,
Ag lúbadh is ag osnaíl ar nós
Ordóg a chócaráil ar mhóin lasta.

Dá bhféadfainn an spéir a líobadh,
Bheinn ag líobadh lucht neimhe,
Gormaithe go mall le geal-doinne
An chairn sléibhe, cosanta ag dún
Cloiche ó bhuaireamh an tsaoil.


Ripples

If I could eat the sea foam,
I’d eat starfish,
Fried over-easy in the sun,
Hissing and spitting
Like crab-claws on a turf fire.

If I could lick the sky,
I’d lick the contents of heaven,
Turned blue over time
By the bright-dark mountain,
Untouched by anything.

–Translated from the Irish by Martin Howard