ach tá an tíogar ionainn.
Más mín í ár dteanga
tá oighear inár gcuid féitheacha:
stróicfimis an croí amach as an namhaid
mar a bhrisfí arán
nó dos leitíse a tharraingt.
Níl aithne ag éinne orainn,
iníonacha an éithigh.
I gcás chnámh spairne,
dhéanfadh an móinteán leaba dúinn
chomh maith le tocht ceadaithe ar bith.
Léirímid trócaire do chách
Is níl trua againn d’éinne.
Cé go luíonn siad linne
Agus go gcuimlíonn an craiceann caorach,
Ní fheiceann siad riamh an mac tíre.
San aigne agus sa chroí
atá na starrfhiacla agus an crobh,
ní spáráiltear éinne.
Súile an phocaire gaoithe atá againn
gaol againn leis an bhfiántas fliuch.
Tar, tá an féasta leata romhat.
Cothaigh tú féin orm
Ní bhlaisfidh tú go deo de m’fhírinne.
Tanya Mendonsa
The Daughters of the Lie
Our ways are mildbut we have tigers in the blood.
We speak them smooth
but ice runs in our veins:
we would tear the heart out of an enemy
as easily as we would break bread
or pull a lettuce.
Nobody knows us,
the daughters of the lie.
At a sticking point,
the heath is as good a bed for us
as any sanctioned mattress.
With mercy to all
we have pity for none.
Although they lie with us
and stroke the sheepskin,
they never see the wolf.
The fangs and claws
are in the mind and heart,
and nobody is spared.
We have kestrel's eyes
and our kin are the wildness and the wet.
Come, the feast is spread.
You can sate yourself on me
and never taste my truth.
