Queirt/ apple
| Queirt/ ubhal/ apple | |
| itheamaid plumbais, itheamaid peur,
lìonar am bial le dìle meala, rachadh làn dùirn dhearcan spreadhach tromh 'n anam, mìlseachd thar mhilseachd san ubhal mhór ruadh a dh'altrum gàradh . ach seo, mar chnò bheag shuarach uaine, bànrainn nam meas, meas na beatha, geur ri naidheachd bàis, meas an tàlaidh, meas an iùil do laoch le càil na h-òige son eòlas agus innleachd. mas i cairt-ceadachaidh do thìr- nan-òg, tha iomadh buaidh aic' air lùths nam beò, faic òigh ag amharc pòr an cniadachd teine, 's a dòchas làn gun togar smuid a dhearbhas cniadachd gaoil seo i, ged tha, tus na cainnt, am blàth, am meas, am pòr san làr, fiùran agus craobh, tùs an dàin, reul nan àird, o bhreith gu bàs, biadh dh'an eanchainn, taitneach, tlàth, an lide cleithte, tùs an là |
eat your plums, eat your pears fill your mouth with a flood of honey let a fistful of berries explode through your soul, sweet beyond sweetness the great red apple that nursed a garden. or this, insignificant little green nut, queen of the fruit, fruit of life, sharp as a news of death, fruit of enticing, fruit that led a warrior with youth's keen hunger for mastery of battle skills. though it be password to the otherworld, it retains the power to affect the living, see the young girl watch apple-pips in the fire's embrace, full of hope the smoke will rise that ensures true love's embrace. here it is, where speech begins, the blossom, fruit, seed in the earth, sapling and tree, begins the poem, star of seasons, from birth to death, it feeds the brain, satisfying, mellow, this hidden letter begins the day. |
| poem by aonghas macneacail | |