Bhí aibhleoga dearga san fhéar dóite mar ar bhuail tintreach an machaire.

Tháinig an duine is chrom is shéid orthu gur tháinig tine.

Chonaic sí é is chloígh lena thaobh

is leadhb le teann grá é mar gur thuig

sise (nach leacht, solad ná gás, nach cáithnín, tonn ná ga í),

eisean (nach iasc, éan ná míol, nach púca, deamhan ná dia é),

is go rabhadar araon gan sliocht gan sinsear.

Ar sise, ‘Beathaigh mise is beathód tusa.’ Ar seisean, ‘Bíodh ina mhargadh.’

Fire

When lightning struck the dunes

it left red embers in the scorched grass.

A man approached and crouched and blew on them until a fire took.

Fire saw him and was hafted to his side

and smothered him with love because it understood

that it was neither liquid, nor solid, nor air, not particle, wave, or ray,

and he, that he was neither fish, nor fowl, nor whale, not hobgoblin, demon, or god,

and they both knew that they were there without issue or forebears.

Fire said, ‘Nurture me and I will do the same.’ The man said, ‘It’s a deal.’

Seán Lysaght a d’aistrigh