Fill Arís by Seán Ó Ríordáin
Fág Gleann na nGealt thoir,
Is a bhfuil d’aois seo ár dTiarna i d’fhuil,
Dún d’intinn ar ar tharla
Ó buaileadh Cath Chionn tSáile,
Is ón uair go bhfuil an t-ualach trom
Ia an bóthar fada, bain ded mheabhair
Srathar shibhialtach an Bhéarla,
Shelly, Keats is Shakespeare:
Fill arís ar do chuid,
Nigh d’intinn is nigh
Do theanga a chuaigh ceangailte i gcomhréiribh’
Bhí bunoscaionn le d’éirim:
Dein d’fhaoistin is dein
Síocháin led ghiniúin féinig
Is led thigh-se féin is ná tréig iad,
Ní dual do neach a thigh ná a threabh a thréigean.
Téir faobhar na faille siar tráthnóna gréine go Corca Dhuibhne,
Is chífir thiar ag bun na spéire ag ráthaíocht ann
An Uimhir Dhé, is an Modh Foshuiteach,
Is an tuiseal gairmeach ar bhéalaibh daoine:
Sin é do dhoras,
Dún Chaoin fé sholas an tráthnóna,
Buail is osclófar
D’intinn féin is do chló ceart.
In English:
Leave the Valley of the Mad back east,
and all there is of this age of our Lord in your blood,
close your mind to what has happened
since the Battle of Kinsale,
and, since the load is heavy
and the road long, remove from your mind
the civilised halter of English,
Shelley, Keats and Shakespeare:
return again to your own,
cleanse your mind and cleanse
your tongue which got tied up in a syntax
at odds with your intellect:
make your confession and make
peace with your own race
and with your own house, and do not abandon them.
It is not natural for anyone to abandon his house or his tribe.
On a sunlit evening take the cliff road out to Corca
Dhuibhne,
and out on the horizon you will see shoaling there
the Dual Number, and the Subjunctive Mood,
and the vocative case on people’s mouths:
that is your door,
Dun Chaoin in the evening light,
knock and there will be opened
your own mind and your right shape.
English translation by Barry McCrea
