Poem of the Week: “Finit” by Máire Mhac an tSaoi

Finit

Le seans a chuala uathu scéala an chleamhnais
Is b’ait liom srian le héadroime na gaoithe—
Do bhís chomh hanamúil léi, chomh domheabhartha,
Chomh fiáin léi, is chomh haonraic, mar ba chuimhin liom.

Féach feasta go bhfuil dála cháich i ndán duit,
Cruatan is coitinne, séasúr go céile,
Ag éalú i ndearúd le hiompú ráithe
Gur dabht arbh ann duit riamh, ná dod leithéidse…

Ach go mbeidh poirt anois ná cloisfead choíche
Gan tú bheith os mo chomhair arís sa chúinne
Ag feitheamh, ceol ar láimh leat, roimh an rince
Is diamhaireacht na hoíche amuigh id shúile.

Finit

By chance I heard them mention
Your engagement. The wind died down,
Grew tame. You were the wind — willful,
Spirited, as I remember. Untamed. Solitary.

Henceforth, know the common lot
Is yours, hardship and routine, season
By season, slipping from memory as the quarters turn
Till we doubt that you or your like ever existed.

But there will be tunes I’ll never hear again
Without seeing you there in the corner,
Melodeon in hand, waiting for the dance,
Your eyes, the darkness of the night, brought in.

–Máire Mhac an tSaoi, trans. Biddy Jenkinson, from The Miraculous Parish (2014)