2013-06-15

Séimhe na Neach bhFiáin

Séimhe na Neach bhFiáin

Nuair a mhéadaíonn an t-éadóchas ionam
agus nuair a dhúisíonn an fhuaim is lú mé i lár na hoíche
agus eagla orm faoi mo shaol féin is faoi mo leanaí,
imím liom is luímse siar san áit a nglacann bardal na coille
a scíth agus nach álainn san uisce é, an áit ina gcothaíonn an chorr réisc mhór í féin.
Seo mé isteach i séimhe na neach bhfiáin
nach eire ar a mbeatha é an danaid a thuar. Seo mé
i láthair an uisce chiúin.
Agus braithim os mo chionn na réaltaí is iad caoch I rith an lae
ag feitheamh lena solas. Ar feadh scaithimhín glacaim scíth
i ngrásta an domhain, is mé saor.

The Peace of Wild Things


When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

~ Wendell Berry ~