Sea-Fever (1902) le John Masefield, á léamh ag an bhfile.
Sea-Fever
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
Fiabhras Farraige
Táim ag triall ar an muir arís, an mhuir uaigneach is an spéir
Is níl uaimse anois ach long ard is í á stiúradh ag réalt;
Is speach an rotha, laoi na gaoithe is crith na seolta bána
Is ceo liath ar aghaidh na mara is an léithe ag láchaint.
Táim ag triall ar an muir arís, mar cloisim rith na taoide
Ina ghlaoch fiáin is ina ghlaoch glé nach féidir dom a shéanadh
Is níl aon ní uaim ach lá mór is néalta bána á sraoilleadh
Is an cáitheadh spréite is an cúr, agus uaillghol na bhfaoileán.
Táim ag triall ar an muir arís, ar shaol na ngiofóg strae
Slí na n-éan is an mhíl mhóir, is an ghaoth ina scian ghéar;
Is níl uaim ach eachtra grinn a chlos ó loingseoir éigin súgach
Is suan sámh is brionglóid bhinn ag deireadh an chúrsa.
