An tAistear
Os cionn na sléibhte
casann na géanna isteach
sa solas athuair
a scáthchruthanna dubha
á bpéinteáil acu
ar an spéir fhairsing.
Uaireanta caithfear
gach aon ní
a bhreacadh
san fhirmimint
chun teacht
ar an aon líne sin
atá scríofa cheana
ionat.
Uaireanta bíonn gá
le spéir mhór
chun an ding bheag gheal sin
i do chroí féin
Nach bhfuil aon chur síos uirthi
a aimsiú.
Uaireanta bíonn rud éigin nua
scríofa ag neach éigin
i luaithreach do shaoil
le cnámha na maidí dubha
a fhágtar nuair a théann
an tine in éag.
Ní ag imeacht atá tú
ach ag teacht.
The Journey
Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again
Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.
Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens
so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.
Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that
small, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.
Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out
someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.
You are not leaving
you are arriving.
~ David Whyte ~
