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Geimhriú
Bolgbhrón
a tholgas
ar fán i gceo an Fhómhair

chothaíos é le bia,
do dheineas dó cocún
is do leag isteach i bpluais
go humhal

Tá suan mallaitheach
ag bagairt orm
le coicís

is mé ag alpadh dorchadais.

Ná labhair focal,
ná féach im threo
tá duifean ar mo chroí
nach n-ardófar

– Géillim don gheimhriú –

Ní aithneofar mé
go péacadh na mbachlóg.
Wintering
I caught a stomach-sorrow
while traipsing October’s fogs

I ate to nourish it
made a cocoon for it
laid it with slow reverence in a hollow

For fourteen nights
some cursed sleep’s been after me

while I’ve been up feeding on darkness

Don’t say a word
Don’t look in my direction

There’s something on my heart that can’t be lifted

– I give in to wintering –

You won't see me till the buds start to blossom