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Thomas MacDonagh

Frances Ledwidge
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OriginalIrish version of the poem / Versione irlandese della poesia /...
THOMAS MACDONAGHTHOMAS MACDONAGH
  
He shall not hear the bittern cryNí chloisfidh sé an bonnán buí
In the wild sky, where he is lain,Sa spéir fhiáin, is é ina luí,
Nor voices of the sweeter birds,Ná cantain shéimh na n-éan binn
Above the wailing of the rain.Os cionn ghol na báistí.
  
Nor shall he know when loud March blowsNá nuair a shéidfidh Márta garbh
Thro' slanting snows her fanfare shrill,A bhlosc garg trí shneachta mín
Blowing to flame the golden cupIs lasair curtha aige cheana
Of many an upset daffodil.Faoi lusanna an chromchinn.
  
But when the Dark Cow leaves the moor,Ach nuair nach insan riasc níos mó
And pastures poor with greedy weeds,A bheidh an Bhó ach ar thalamh slán
Perhaps he'll hear her low at morn,Sea cloisfidh sé a géimneach fós
Lifting her horn in pleasant meads.A hadharc ag lonrú ar an mbán.


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