Artificial Borders - Under A Rainbow Across The Bóithrín Poem by Chris Lane

There isn't any border to be seen
Just beautiful rolling green hills feeding a meandering stream
And an occasional rainbow which
Spans the ancient bog across the bóithrín

There was never a border
As the country in its entirety is an island surrounded by ocean
And established indigenous tribes have coexisted here for ten millennium
Many traders and settlers from beyond the horizon when they arrived were welcomed

The old man reflects on a time that was
Those were the years before nineteen hundred and twenty one
The following year some of his farm was gone
And rare is the rainbow which upon both sides has shone

Happier they are, the hills, rocks and trees
The river which flows south to the sea -
Sun dews glisten and the dragonfly will never see
A border - while hovering down around here