Dán do Lara, 10

Fuinseog trí thine

gruaig do chinn

ag mealladh fuiseoige

le do ghlór binn

i bhféar glas,

is scata nóiníní

ag súgradh leat

is scata coiníní

ag damhsa leat

an lon dubh

is a órghob

mar sheoid leat

lasair choille

is a binneas

mar cheol leat.

Is cumhracht tusa,

is mil, is sú talún:

ceapann na beacha féin

gur bláth sa pháirc thú.

A bhanríon óg thír na leabhair

go raibh tú mar seo go deo

go raibh tú saor i gconaí

ó slabhra an bhróin.

 

Seo mo bheannacht ort, a chailín

is is tábhachtach mar bheannú é –

go raibh áilleacht anama do mháthar leat

is áilleacht a ghné.

 

Poem for Lara, 10                     

An ashtree on fire                                                          

the hair of your head                         

coaxing larks                                    

with your sweet voice                        

in the green grass,                            

a crowd of daisies                              

playing with you                               

a crowd of rabbits                              

dancing with you                              

the blackbird                                    

with its gold bill                                

is a jewel for you                               

the goldfinch                                     

with its sweetness                             

is your music.                                   

You are perfume,                               

you are honey,                                  

a wild strawberry:                             

even the bees think you                     

a flower in the field.                          

Little queen of the land of books                  

may you be always thus                    

may you ever be free                                   

from sorrow-chains.

 

Here’s my blessing for you, girl,                  

and it is no pretty grace –                                     

may you have the beauty of your mother’s soul      

and the beauty of her face.       

Note:  This poem, along with Dán do Niall, 7, and Dán do Rosemary, Lara’s mother,  first appeared in Michael Hartnett’s first collection in Irish, Adharca Broic, in 1978.  The poem, along with Dán do Niall, 7, later appeared in A Necklace of Wrens in 1987, with both poems given an English translation by the poet himself.      Both collections, Adharca Broic and A Necklace of Wrens (edited by Peter Fallon), were published by The Gallery Press.