An Bád Sí

Triúr a chonaic is triúr ná faca
na fearaibh ar na maidí rámha,
seaicéidí gorma orthu agus caipíní dearga,
ag dul isteach go Faill na Mná.

Sinne a bhí ag piocadh duilisc
ar na clocha sa Chuaisín –
mise is Neil is Nóra Ní Bhrosnacháin
a chonaic iad is an triúr eile ní fhaca rian.

Bhí ár gceannaibh síos go talamh
ag piocadh linn is ár n-aprúin lán.
Mise is túisce a d’ardaigh m’amharc
nuair a chualamair fuaim na maidí rámha.

Ní fhéadfainn a rá an cúigear nó seisear
fear a bhí istigh sa bhád.
Bhí duine acu thiar ina deireadh á stiúradh
is gan aon chor as ach oiread leis an mbás.

Do liús is do bhéiceas féachaint
isteach faoin bhfaill cár ghaibh an bád.
Chonaic triúr iad is ní fhaca an triúr eile
in áit chomh cúng ná raghadh ach rón.
Is dá mbeidís ag straeneáil ann go maidin
go brách na breithe ní fheicfeadh rian
den mbád úd nárbh aon bhád saolta
a chonac le mo dhá shúil cinn.

Dúirt na seandaoine nár mhithid
teacht abhaile is an Choróin a rá
mar gur minic a bhí a leithéid cheana
á thaibhsiú do dhaoine ar an mbá.

Triúr a chonaic is triúr ná faca
na fearaibh ar na maidí rámha,
seaicéidí gorma orthu is caipíní dearga
ag dul isteach go Faill na Mná.

© Nuala Ni Dhmonaill
Aus: An Dealg Droighinn
Dublin: The Mercier Press, 1981

Hand

So a week before you died,
well, this happened:
I’d returned to your table
and suddenly couldn’t talk
and my hand and arm had gone all amber.
I stuttered. The left had honeyed over,
but you didn’t notice – I had to tell you.
Then you were calling every day:
“Get that amber arm of yours seen to,
or I’m going to call you every day and say,
get that amber arm of yours seen to.”
We didn’t see each other again. Over there,
we’ll caress with diamond hands. I can’t wait.

translated by Justin Quinn