You came to the grounds of Granard'sChurch.
What could be worse?
Oh, Anne, you were but a child and not much more
When the pangs of labour,
All alone, you had to endure.
Your labour bed was a sheet of glass,
Your midwives were the clouds that passed.
Anne, your life was to end in sorrow,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem