Mirko Bonné

It would explain the sandy path,
the rutted tracks
shining in the dusk,
so that a screech owl, by way of shadows,
would have a clue
and one would thus recognise it
before the path rises.
A reason for the embankment!

Also leftovers from provisions
and milk puddles in coltsfoot
under flaking army lorries,
a kind of post-mortem,
autumn of fading camouflage,
a little wood, defoliated in time,
where children would dig for cartridges,
but more distinct traces?

Winter’s night. No matter, whether with snow
or the frost of New Year’s Eve,
above the turnip plot,
at the edge of the circle of the screech owl,
the Wentzenburg would stand,
as the story goes when they butcher.
The sandy path would lead up, there would be a bridge,
on the ridge of the robber baron’s roof eagle-owls would nest.

Mhíneodh sé an cosán gainimhe,
cén fáth go bhfuil na claiseanna chomh domhain,
iad ag borradh faoi chlapsholas
chun go mbíonn pointe tagartha
bunaithe ar scáileanna, ag an ulchabhán
is cén fáth go mbíonn an cosán chomh sofheicthe
sula n-éiríonn sé i gcoinne an aird?
Ábhar maith chun port cosanta a thógáil!

Níos sia siar tá iarsmaí oráiste
agus locháin bainne ar maos sa sponc,
faoi leoraithe – a ndathanna  síonídithe
á scú díobh – sórt scrúdú iarbháis.
Fairis sin tá fómhar faoi cheilt
á chreimeadh ag an aimsir, doire beag
ina mbíonn páistí ag tóch ag lorg cartús
ach na claiseanna a bheith níos soiléire.

Tagann an geimhreadh. Is cuma an le sneachta
nó le sioc na hathbhliana,
os cionn gort na dtornapaí
ar imeallraon an ulchabháin,
is ann a sheasaíodh dún na Bheindeach
mar a n-instear fós sna scéalta am mharaithe na mbeithíoch.
Is ann a théadh slí na gainimhe i gcoinne an aird.
Bhíodh droichead ann is bhíodh an t-ulchabhán
ag déanamh nide i mbarr binne an ropaire barúin.