The Wayfarer
The beauty of the world hath made me sad,
This beauty that will pass;
Sometimes my heart hath shaken with great joy
To see a leaping squirrel in a tree,
Or a red lady-bird upon a stalk,
Or little rabbits in a field at evening,
Lit by a slanting sun,
Or some green hill where shadows drifted by,
Some quiet hill where mountainy man hath sown
And soon would reap; near to the gate of Heaven;
Or children with bare feet upon the sands
Of some ebbed sea, or playing on the streets
Of little towns in Connacht,
Things young and happy.
And then my heart hath told me :
These will pass,
Will pass and change, will die and be no more,
Things bright and green, things young and happy ;
And I have gone upon my way
Sorrowful.
Pádraic Pearse (1879-1916)
[Written in Kilmainham Jail, Dublin, shortly before his execution]
An Fánaí
Chuir áilleacht an domhain seo cumha orm,
An áilleacht seo a imeoidh;
Uaireanta cuireann iora preabach i gcrann
Na smóilíní ag sclimpireacht i mo chroí
Nó bóín Dé ina dheargloinnir ar ghas
Nó coiníní beaga i ngort sa chlapsholas
Is an ghrian á bpógadh,
Nó cnoc glas éigin is scáileanna ag gabháil thar bráid,
Cnoc ciúin éigin is sléibhteánach ag cur síolta ann,
Ní fada uaidh an fómhar, gar do gheataí neimhe;
Nó páistí cosnochta sa ghaineamh
Is an taoide tráite, nó iad ag spraoi ar na sráideanna
I mionbhailte Chonnacht,
Nithe óga is iad sona.
Is ansin do labhair mo chroí liom:
Ní mhairfidh,
Ní mhairfidh, athróidh, is caillfear go deo iad,
Nithe geala glasa, nithe óga is iad sona;
Is tá mo chúrsa curtha díom agam
Faoi smúit.
[Cumtha i gcarcair Chill Mhaighneann tamall sular cuireadh chun báis é]
