Francisco Goya
solas ina shreabhadh lag
tríd an bhfuinneog
ina chuilithín trasna an urláir
an solas deireanach a fheicfidh siad
sa domhan cloíte seo ar aon nós
light that faintly streams
through the window
and trickles across the floor
the last light they will see
at least in this stricken world