Dílseacht
B’fhada sinn ag cosaint na teorann
ag seasamh an fhóid ar son an Impire
a shiúladh tráthnóna i measc na ndealbh:
na corra éisc ag éirí anseo ón riasc
na francaigh ag pórú sna tuamaí
an daingean ag fanacht faoi ualach aimsire
ach tháinig an teachtaire a d’fhógair
gur briseadh an impireacht fadó:
lean na páistí orthu ag súgradh
an gabha ag tuargaint lainne ar inneoin
is an namhaid ag faire i gcónaí
i bhfolach sa luachair
Fidelity
For a long time we had defended the border, standing our ground for the Emperor who walked at evening among the statues, while here the herons rose from the marsh, the rats bred in the tombs, the stronghold waited under a burden of time. But there came the messenger who announced that the empire had vanished long ago. The children played on, the smith beat a blade on the anvil, while the enemy still kept watch, hidden in the rushes.
Private Eye
Tháinig sí ina haisling chugat
(chugat féin, fear a scaradh na mná leis
agus a bhíodh ar an ól)
ag iarraidh ort fear eile a lorg
ar chonair na diamhaire:
bhí marú sa scéal is mírún na hoíche
is soilse neoin ag preabarnach i do chloigeann;
thit tú i ngrá léi, rud a laghdaigh do chiall
gur tháinig tú uirthi is í ina seasamh
os cionn marbháin (do chorp féin)
is gunnán gleoite ina dorn aici:
bhí deireadh déanta is d’ól an chuid bheo díot
deoch is deoch eile
le hómós don chiall cheannaithe
le hómós don mhearú a bhí le teacht
Private Eye
She came to you like a vision (to you, a man whom women used to leave and who was on the booze), asking you to seek another man on the path of mystery. Killing was part of it and the malice of the night and neon lights pulsing in your skull; you fell in love with her, which dulled your wits, and you came upon her standing over a corpse (your own), with a pretty gun in her grip. That was the end and the living part of you drank and drank again to wisdom earned, to the madness to come.
Melbourne’s Colin Ryan, has had a collection of his poems published by Coiscéim.ie as Corraí na Nathrach.
Tinteán 