Over Screen the soft pink duvet comes,
across the sky, the dog goes home
to his basket.
The Robin into hedge has gone
the hare his evening stroll is done,
there Benbulbin hides the setting sun.
And Aughris the calming bay,
with Screen, an Eremites hill
beneath the Easter bonnet
of Ladies Brae,
and the ghostly horse at
mountain lake.
My life is full of cups of tea gone cold,
a needy call the door it knocks,
the traveller lost for half a crown,
the worried soul sings out regret
and couple want to wed.
But in this saucer, underneath the Sligo sky,
hope is never done, and stoke the fire
of faith, for in the hollow bark
the moss will grow and
lichen soften the hardened bark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful imagery, so atmospheric, once we have faith there is always hope!