Inghean (Daughter)
Tá sí chomh lán de nádúr le crúiscín
ag cur thar maoil le bainne,
nó buicéad uisce
líonta thar a bhruach,
ag stealladh farraige
ar an ngaineamh spalptha.
Scairdeann sí áthas gan smál
is beireann chugam an farasbarr,
curadhmhír an tsolais
i mbasa fíneálta
gan deoir a dhoirteadh.
Tá eagla orm breith uaithi
ar an dtaoide lán
i mbabhla scoilte mo lámh
nó go ritheann an sáile os mo chionn
is briseann ar mhéaracán mo chroí
ná toillfeadh seile cuaiche ann
murach í.
Ó nár tháinig ciall, ná suaimhneas croí le haois,
Is é seo mo ghuí dhuitse fhéin, a inghean,
Le grá is le gruaim m’athairchroí:
Go raibh fad is leithead Mheirice
Is a locha móra groí
Ag síneadh i do chroí,
Do chroí rómhaith rómhór
Atá lán, rólán de ghrá,
A inghean, a inghean,
Atá lán, rólán de ghrá, a inghean.
Go siúla tú ar chosán mín, ar chosán mín an áthais,
Go múchfaidh an solas deireanach
I súil bhocht chaoch mo chinn.
Is go maire tú gach lá dá rabhair
Faoi sholas dheireadh an tsamhraidh,
Is nár mhaire mise lá níos sia ná sruthán geal do gháire
A inghean, a inghean,
Atá lán, rólán de ghrá, a inghean.
A inghean, a inghean,
Atá lán, rólán de ghrá, a inghean.
Is ó nár ghlac tú riamh le comhairle ó sheandaoine,
Is é seo mo ghuí dhuitse fhéin, a inghean,
Le grá is le gruaim m’athairchroí,
A inghean, a inghean,
Le grá is le gruaim m’athairchroí.
Tá eagla orm breith uaithi
ar an dtaoide lán
i mbabhla scoilte mo lámh
nó go ritheann an sáile os mo chionn
is briseann ar mhéaracán mo chroí
ná toillfeadh seile cuaiche ann
murach í.
Daughter
She is full of love
as a milkjug, filled
to the lip and above
or a brimming bucket
spilling sea
on parched sand.
She pours pure joy
and brings me the best of it,
the champion’s portion of light
in cupped hands, never spilling a drop.
I am afraid to take hold
of the tide
in the cracked bowl of my fists,
but the sea rushes in over my head,
flooding the thimble of my heart
that couldn’t, but for her,
catch a cuckoo spit.
And since sense and peace of mind have never come with age,
This is my prayer for you, daughter,
With all the love and loneliness in my fatherheart:
That your heart be as large
As all the great lakes of America,
Your heart that is so good and so big,
So full, too full, of love,
Daughter, my daughter,
So full, too full, of love.
May you walk the gentle path, the gentle path of happiness
Until the last light is put out
In my feeble, wornout eyes.
May you live each day of your life
In the kind light of a late summer,
And may I not live a single day longer
Than the bright stream of your laughter,
Daughter, my daughter,
So full, too full, of love.
Daughter, my daughter,
So full, too full, of love.
And since you never took advice before from the old,
This is my prayer, my wish, for you, daughter,
With all the love and loneliness of my heart.
Daughter, my daughter,
So full, too full, of love.
I am afraid to take hold
of the tide
in the cracked bowl of my fists,
but the sea rushes in over my head,
flooding the thimble of my heart
that couldn’t, but for her,
catch a cuckoo spit.