A poem by the writer Liam Ó Flaithearta
Na Blátha Craige
Said I to the rock flowers:
‘Isn’t it a bleak place you have found
To take the air,
Squeezed up here by the cliffedge,
Perched on a grey stone
Soiled by birds,
A treacherous place, threatened by fog
And foaming sea,
The sun does not shine here
From one end of the week to the other
To gladden your hearts’.
Said the rock flowers to me:
‘It doesn’t bother us in the slightest, dear one,
We are bewitched by the music of the sea.’
Adúirt mé leis na blátha:
‘Nach suarach an áit a fuair sibh
Le bheith ag déanamh aeir,
Teannta suas anseo le bruach na haille,
Gan fúibh ach an chloch ghlas
Agus salachar na n-éan,
Áit bhradach, lán le ceo
Agus farraige cháite,
Ní scairteann grian anseo
Ó Luan go Satharn
Le gliondar a chur oraibh.'
Adúirt na blátha craige:
‘Is cuma linn, a stór,
Táimid faoi dhraíocht
Ag ceol na farraige.'
