Over the hurried river,
the wild birds have halted,
wind breathes suavely in the morning.
Over our houses,
bright forehead of the morning rises,
we swing in a crystal boat under the old nut tree.
The tower of the castle calls us secretly,
splendid gates open,
the steps straighten ourself to midday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Three great stanzas. Three beautiful images. Can I say anymore? Wonderful. Best wishes, Seán