Bealtaine

by Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh

Ní mí na breithe tú
ach mí an bháis;

séideann stolladh gaoithe,
titeann gloine as lámh
i do láthair.

Brúchtann tú breoiteacht
go ciúin, binibeach.

Slogann tú beatha
nóscumaliom
le cith is gealán.

Múchann tú saol
le caoch ó do shúil
mhínádúrtha.

Cacann tú uan Dé
a thógann peacach ón domhan.

Déan trócaire orainn.

from Péacadh

By kind permission of the author and Coisceim

May

You are not the time of birth
but of its opposite;

your rending winds,
glasses falling from our hands
at the sight of you.

Pains sprouting and blooming,
within us, in silent toxicity.

You gulp existences
with your indifferent,
scattered rains.

You switch off lives
with one glare
from your unnatural eye.

You excrete the Lamb of God
who takes away the sin of the world.

Have mercy on us.

Translated into English by Billy Ramsell