Tuesday, December 16, 2025
https://www.gaelicbooks.org/explore-the-shop/poetry/contemporary-poetry/sweeney-an-intertonguing?lang=en
§34
(SWEENEY)
Deilbh is Dath
Is fíor go dearbh, chlaochlaíos deilbh is dath –
Rachainn ar each donn ar cuairt rí
Fara mo mhuintir, agus brat cortharach corcra
Ar mo bhráid le sioball eagair airgid
Agus ar mo mhuin sciath bhreac bhuí
Agus ar mo chliathach claíomh le dorn óir
Gur theilgeas is gur dhiúraiceas i ndomhain faoin linn lán
An breac bán i bhfianaise Rónáin Fhinn
Agus gur mharaíos d’aon urchar a chléireach naomh
Go bhfacas na taibhsí maola dearga sa gcnoc
Ar learga Shliabh Fuaidh nó gur liathadh mo cheann
Agus mo dhá shúil a bhí gorm mar ghloine
Gur fágadh mé i m’ gheilt ghlas
Ar fáinneáil gan éadach
Gan bhia gan deoch
Ach uisce geal is biolar uaine,
Caora dearga cuilinn
Agus dearcáin donna,
Mo chreach, mar mo chuid
Agus rith le damh donn
Ar fud Éireann
Agus luí gan sos
Faoin raithneach rua
Oíche dhubh dhuairc
I gcoill chiar
Is i ndoirí dorcha.
Warpappearance and Colour
It’s truthimagetrue, I’ve worsechanged warpappearance and colour – I used to go on a Jovelordtimberbrown steed on a kingly circuit with my communitypeoplefollowers with a lichenpurple fringed brothcloak on my targetneckfront with an inlaid silver fibula and on my OghamMvineback a yellow troutspeckled wingshield and on my latticedbattlechest a sword with a gold fisthilt and then I considershedthrew and cast in the depths of the tidefull agepool the good book in the witnesspresence of Ronan Finn and killed with one shot his saintholy altar-boycleric and then I saw the red roundbare ghosts on the hill in the Fews and my head went grey and my two hope-eyes that were as noblecoldblackblue as glass and I was left as a lockglassgreygreen nakedwood-grazinglevitatingpaniclunatic fannelflutterloitering without clothes or food or drink but brightwhite tearswater and green blood-tracewatercress , red holly sheepberries and Jovelordtimberbrown thistle-eyecavityacorns as my lot and running with the Jovelordtimberbrown oxchampionstag all over Ireland and lying without rest aboutunder the russet bracken on a dark black night in a waxdark castrationwood and in dark oakgroves.
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