Poem: Tír na nÓg (The Land of Youth)

d’Imad

Bhí sé de nós againn uilig
Domhan eile ionann a shamhlú
Agus sinn níos óige,

Bhí muid, tráth, inár laochra dúinn féin;
Ar thóir an chúl báire, an airgid, nó an óir,
Samhlaíocht agus soineantas an pháiste,
Ba láidre iad ná lámh Dé é féin.

Is de ghnáth, áfach, is sinne ‘nois fásta
Go gcaillimid an chleasaíocht sin,
Ar nós gurb é praghas na haoise
Ná cead isteach sa ríocht súgartha.

Ach tríot, b’fhéidir i ngan fhios duit féin,
Thug tú eochair an tseandorais ar ais dom
Agus d’osclaíos an domhan lán solais ildaite
Le soineantas na n-óg orainn arís

Mar is bláth cumhra é an gealghrá,
Bheith faoi gheasa agat, bailithe
Slán ó thír éagothrom na ndeor
Agus socair id’ shúile,
faoi shéan i dTír na nÓg.

San Antonio, Texas
20 Meán Fómhair 2022


The Land of Youth

We were all once so used
To imagining another world within us
When we were merely children,

We were, once, the heroes of our stories,
In pursuit of the goal, the money, or the gold,
A child’s imagination, powered by innocence,
Would be stronger than God’s own hand.

And normally, as we slowly come of age,
We come to lose that magical power,
As if the price of adulthood
Was to be locked out of that playground of wonder.

But through you, maybe with you unaware,
You’ve found the key to open those gates
And let out the rainbow coloured light
Basking us in innocence and youthful delight

For ours is a blossoming true love;
To be under your spell, rescued safely
From the land of Sorrows
And safe in your eyes
In the Land of Youth.

San Antonio, Texas
20 September 2022

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