mo chuid smaointe ionatsa
a shearc, cén fáth nach mbeadh
cé a gheobhadh aon locht air sin
éanlaith uisce ag filleadh ar an loch
is grian an tráthnóna ann
why should my thoughts
not dwell on You, beloved
who will find fault with me
waterfowl return to the lake
that embraces the evening sun