Billéardaí
Cnagadh ciúin liathróidí
thiar ar an mbord
beirt ag imirt faoi sholas an Fhómhair
ag bogadh ó bhuille go buille
ag tomhas na haimsire
a bhogann ó bhuille go buille
á n-ídiú
Billiards
The quiet knocking of balls back there on the table, two playing in autumn light, moving from stroke to stroke, measuring time that moves from stroke to stroke, exhausting them.
Ciúin
An doras ann
agus staighre
an solas isteach
trí dhathanna gloine
agus an ciúnas
a d’fhág an té a chuaigh
in airde fadó
ina dhiaidh
Quiet
The door and a stair, light through colours of glass, and the quietness left by the one who went up long ago.
Teagmhas hataí
Sna seomraí seo
atá ag súil le taibhsí nua
tar éis gur théaltaigh
na seanscáileanna leo
í féin ag siúl
ó spás go spás
á líonadh leis an am
atá le teacht
is ag fágáil na gcrúcán folamh
nó go bhféadfadh sí
na hataí a ligean chuici
A possibility of hats
In these rooms that await new ghosts after the old ones stole away, she walks from space to space, filling them with time to come, leaving the hooks empty until she can let the hats come in.
Melbourne-based Colin Ryan is a regular contributor to Tinteán. He has a poetry collection available from publishers Coiscéim in Dublin.
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