Agus é ag
cur Gaeilge ar shoinéid Bhéarla a scríobh sé fadó
Filíocht óna óige, óna
faillí,
Focail bhreátha the a chum mo dhuine;
Tháinig siadsan faoi anáil na gealaí;
Thaitin solas orthu t’réis na mblianta,
Soinéid Bhéarla ‘g dúiseacht óna gcodladh.
Ag fanacht faoin sneachta, cnó is cloigeann;
Seo crannlaoch ag imeacht le craobhacha.
Phléasc an bhlaosc is athuair d’fhás a chuidsean;
Faoi bhláth na Gaeilge binne, an
t-úr-shean.
As he is
putting sonnets he wrote long ago into Irish
His poetry from youth, from
it’s neglect;
Hot words of Raymond Clark, finely written;
Felt they all the pull of lunar planet;
After years a light does now illumen,
English words from sleeping now awaken.
A nut, a head, were dormant under snow,
The wild man, this the changing veteran;
The shell did burst, his off’ring new did grow;
In the bloom of sweet Irish,
the new-old.