Dún do shúile
(Close your eyes)
Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .
Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .
Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi
(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)
aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)
gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .
Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)
Ach anois...
(But now...)
codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)
go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)
le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .
Losing our baby
late into the night
holding this little thing
that only attempted to be human
unable to let go
I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand
& buried it in the dawn
of our local park
under a recently planted
red rose bush.
In my grief
flower & baby
became one
and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars
to talk to her in the dark in Irish.
Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.
Or cry...or...cry.
Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop
drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.
Guess he let me go because - it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:
“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”
- in Irish.
Eist...eist
(listen...listen)
duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)
in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .
Fill...fill...a run o!
Fill a run o is na imigh uaim.
Fill orm a chuisle a stor
agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!
(THE TIMES-LONDON: SAT 31.04.07)
COME AWAY O HUMAN CHILD!
Little daughter
even before you were
(conceived by me)
I dreamed of your head
on a pillow
dreaming your own dreams.
I staggered from day to day
drunk with amazement
amazed with astonishment
that you were
going to be
counting days
eagerly
until you were.
Now, that we have
lost you
slipping unbelievably
somehow between
our dreams
and your dreams
(Heaven lost in the dark)
I think of you
as you were going to be
your head dreaming
on a pillow
my head at rest beside your head.
Little daughter
who never was
Oh how I miss you!
LONGINGS
She had a longing
for fried onions.
He couldn’t stand them
himself.
But, there he was
frying them for her
at 4 o’clock
in the morning.
Yawning.
Unshaven.
She balanced them
on her bump.
He sleepily smiled:
“Well, aren’t you
going to
eat them? ”
“Ughhh! No!
I only like the smell! ”
He wished
the baby
would come soon.
PAST ALL HARM
Like ice
the night
cracks open &
we find ourselves
drowning in
our greatest fear.
“I’ve lost my baby! ”
“I’ve lost my baby! ”
you scream hysterically
tearing up tears.
It floats in its bloody sea
of not being born
& of being born
too soon.
Like a little prawn
huddled against this cruelness...
...like a strange stigmata
staining my palm
clenched around
this pain
I clutch this
unloving thing
& climb
the railings of the park
as dark gives way to light
&
morning arrives brokenly
to watch me bury
this little death
under the wild red rose bush.
Blinded by my tears
I stagger all through the years
returning to watch you
flower & bloom
nod your little head
to the wind’s suggestions.
I stand alone
left only these
broken tears
&
the place
where you lay
upon my palm
...past all harm
...past all harm.
AS IF NOTHING HAD HAPPENED
We lose our baby.
A world ceases to exist
...summer still persists.
Communion
Butterfly alights
upon your pregnant belly
at one with our child.
This is heartbreaking...a terrible beauty is born. The lullaby lulled me and the break from Irish to English was startling. A brave poem and an impossible one to write. The rather surreal(is reality really like that?) encounter with the police just about makes one able to deal with the great grief. It could only be dealt with indirectly like this otherwise it would not be possible to hold in the mind what is being dealt with here. Codail go la...mo ghra seimh... Gina XXX
Incredible. Hang on while I get off the floor.... The final image is nothing less than perfection. Simply stunning. Ez.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh this broke my heart. It is too sad. I am at a loss for words. The lullaby part lulled me into a false sense of security and I was totally unprepared for what the English part dealt with and only now does the title make sense and the splitting of the poem into the two languages.It's like an earthquake in language and the two halves are left in two different dimensions. The story of the flower and the talking to it in the dark in Irish is just unbelievably sad. The rather surreal nature of being arrested by an Irish cop for this 'offence' makes it even more real as that's how wierd life can be...in real life. The beauty of the piece allows the sadness to be held in the mind but oh the nature of such a grief...I can't even begin to imagine. I was going to read more but I'll have to stop now because this is too much for my mind to handle at the moment. With much love Dee Dee