Caite
D’iompaigh an cailín ort
ag cúinne na sráide
agus d’éirigh an t-am a d’imigh
aníos de gheit: chuimhnigh tú
ar a leithéid siúd fadó
na súile lán de mhearbhall na hóige
d’athraigh na soilse
is a haghaidh ar am nárbh fhéidir
a shamhlú: duilleoga feoite
fágtha ar an gcosán
an préachán ag réabadh
iarmhairt an lae
Spent
The girl turned towards you at the street corner, and the past returned suddenly: you remembered one like her long ago, her eyes full of the confusion of youth. The lights changed: she faced a time not be imagined. Dead leaves on the footpath, the crow rending what was left of the day.
Ag fanacht
Bhí an doras ar oscailt
agus béile gan ithe ar an mbord
an páipéar caite i leataobh
lán de sheanscéalta
chualamar guth sa seomra leapa
agus ní bhfuaireamar ann
ach solas scagtha na gréine
agus leabhar leathléite
sinn ag fanacht sa chlós le
deireadh an lae
ag fanacht leo siúd nach dtiocfadh
Waiting
The door was open, an uneaten meal on the table, the paper thrown aside, full of old news. We heard a voice in the bedroom and found nothing there but the filtered sunlight and a half-read book. We waited in the yard for the end of day, for those who would not come.
Fiche bliain
Fiche bliain atá romham go fóill
a dúirt tú, ag cuimhneamh
ar shinsir fhadsaolacha
agus chonaic tú romhat na sochraidí
do cheannaithe ídithe sa ghloine
thug an ghaoth chugat
torann na rudaí nach mairfeadh
agus lean tú ort ag siúl
faoi dhreach neamhchúiseach
na bhflaitheas
Twenty years
I have twenty years still to go, you said, remembering long-lived forebears, and you saw before you the funerals, with your exhausted face in the mirror. The wind brought to you the noise of transient things, and you walked on under the indifferent face of heaven.
Melbourne-based Colin Ryan is a regular contributor to Tinteán‘s poetry section. Previous poetry by Colin has been published by Coiscéim the Dublin-based Irish-language publisher in the book Corraí na Nathrach (2016).
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