Sop Préacháin [A Crow's Wisp] Poem by Aifric Mac Aodha

TRANSLATED BY DAVID WHEATLEY
Do Keara [For Keara]
stuaim

Ba cheart bhur gcur ó aithne,
tá an tír róbheag, teanga
níos stuama a chleachtadh
nó seasamh siar ón tús.

Ach anois thar aon am eile,
níl teacht ná dul ón tosach.
Ag cóisir daoibh in íoslach tí,
thug tú úll dó in áit osclóra.

Bíonn dúil agus dúil ann,
a shonc féin, ba mheidhreach:
Bíonn diúltú agus diúltú ann — 
No thanks, I've read the Bible.


cant

Wipe your memory: the country's
too small, practice
holding your tongue
or stand back from the thing.

As much as ever now
there's no getting past how
she slid with aplomb
not a corkscrew but an apple into his palm.

There's come-ons, and come-ons and then some.
His comeback was winsome.
There's no thanks, and no-thanks-but-frisky—
If that makes me Adam, then you must be ...