Agus mo dhá lámh timpeall air,
An chuid eile go léir ar a nglúine, ag osnaíl ghoil
Paidreacha na marbh acu á rá go creathánach –
‘Ar do ghlúine!’ ar sé faoi mar go raibh a anam ag brath air.
Is nuair a thiteas-sa ar mo ghlúine laga,
Tháinig séimhe iontach ar a ghnúis shuaite,
Na roic ag samhrú go bláth na hóige,
Le heite ghléineach do chuimil an bás leis.
A Athair, b’eol duit gur shléacht m’anamsa
Roimh gach ní, á n-adhradh le grá:
Bhraitheas ó m’óige i leith an Diagacht
Sa duine agus sa dúlra, bíodh is nárbh eol dom É Féin,
Agus leanas le hardlúcháir nó faoi shíocháin
An uile ní sofheicthe is dofheicthe a bhog.
Bhí an svae sin ar m’anam chomh tréan sin
Go mba pheaca im’ shúilese é gach gotha
Ar nós cuma liom is gach réchúis thámh.
Bhí an rud a bhí Fíor chomh fíor sin gur múchadh
Gach deasghnáth, gach nós, siombail is cleachtas
A raibh cuisle gheal na Fírinne sin in easnamh orthu.
Thuigeas-sa leis le blianta fada
Go raibh Cumhacht éigin a leath a fallaing orm,
Máthartha is athartha, grámhar nó cruaidh,
Ag oibriú ionam, maitrís na smaointe go léir,
Gach maitheas is gach áilleacht ag doirteadh trí m’aigne.
Is minic mé ag stánadh ar rud éigin a scríobhas
Ag déanamh iontais cad as a dtáinig sé; is thuigeas gan mhoill
Go mba leor mar bhuíochas an tsíocháin gan choinne.
Níor fhoghlaimíos-sa conas glúin na colainne a fheacadh –
Ró-umhal chun an umhlaíocht a chur ar paráid,
Nó eagla orm an ní neamhdhiaga a adhradh –
Ach im’ chroí istigh mé féin á ísliú agam
Roimh an bhFírinne ghlórmhar, thar aon uair eile
Im’ sheasamh suas caol díreach dom, dána, ceannairceach.
Mar sin ní raibh rath orm, sa chiall atá ag an saol
Don rath, ach go domhain istigh i m’anam
Tá tobar ríméid nach raghaidh i ndísc go deo,
Is an tsíocháin do mo ghríosú i gcogar, gan de neart ionam
Ach an neart sin a thagann as aigne mhacánta:
Níl slí anseo don rath ná don mhírath;
Leanann an saol ar aghaidh i nDia, agus sé Dia is fearr a thuigeann,
D’fhéadfadh duine i mbun urnaí a bheith baoth.
Mar sin más fiáin a bhí mo shaolsa
Ar mo ghlúine a bhíos de shíor roimh an gCumhacht sin
Atá timpeall orainn, ionainn agus trínn,
Is léir dúinn an lúcháir agus an tsíth a bhaineann léi
Nuair a chromtar os a comhair go domhain inár gcroí.
Tá a fhios agat le tríocha bliain é: táimse á rá anois.
Armando Menezes
To My Father,
On The Centenary of His Birth
(1966)
My father when he died, already when the rattle
Had set in and I held him in my arms,
While all the rest were kneeling and with sobs
The office for the dead was shivered, cried―
As if his soul were staked upon it―‘Kneel!’
And when I fell on trembling guilty knees,
A great peace came upon his troubled face,
Its furrows summered to the bloom of youth,
And death had brushed him with a luminous wing.
Father, you knew not that my soul had knelt
In worship and in love before all things:
From childhood have I felt Divinity
In man and nature, though I knew it not,
And followed with ecstatic peace or joy
Each seen or unseen motion of all things.
So strong has been this empire o’er my soul,
That every gesture of indifference,
Or dull complacence was to me a sin.
The Real was so real, that it drowned
All rites, conventions, symbols, practices
That lacked the bright pulsation of this Truth.
And I have also known, for long, long years,
A feeling of some Power that wrapped me round,
Maternal and paternal, fond or hard,
That worked through me, was matrix of all thoughts
Of good or beauty pouring through my mind.
Oft have I stared at something that I wrote
And wondered whence it came; but soon have guessed,
Until a sudden peace was thanks enough.
I have not learnt to bend the body’s knee―
Too humble to parade humility,
Or fearful to adore the undivine―
But ever in my heart abased myself
Before the glorious Truth, most when I seemed
To stand upright in rebel insolence.
Therefore I have not thrived, as the world knows
Of thriving, but within my deepest soul
There is a well of unexhausted joy,
And peace that whispers courage, with no strength
But what must issue from a sincere mind:
No room is here for failure or success;
For life in God goes on, and God knows best
A man can be most foolish when he prays.
Therefore my life, however wild, has been
Perpetual genuflection to that Power
That works around, within us and through us,
And gives us joy and peace as we have learnt
To bow before It in our inmost heart.
You have known it thirty years: I say it now.
