Saturday, 17 May 2014

The Month of May - Irish, author unkown; .ninth century

May it is
fair faced and gentle
blackbirds exult at the crack of day

cuckoos' work greets lordly summer
a balm it is for every bitterness
hedge-green bristle the branching boughs

summer shallows
thirsty herds hasten there
heather's hair sprouts
bog cotton flourishes

tides of smoothness
the ocean drowses
flowers decorate the world

bees bear their weight of harvest
high hills call the cows
the ant feasts

harp of the trees hums and soothes
colour reposes on each slope
haze upon the brimming lake

the corn-crake croaks on, merciless poet
pure falls fall to the warm pool
rushes regain their voices of whispers
swallows soar and dart above

ardent music rings the hill
fruit of sweetness is in the bud
the dusty cuckoo cries and calls

speckled fish are at their leaping
strength of on the swift hero
strength of man is in full flower
majesty of heights unmarred
fair are the woods from root to twig

fair each fresh and fertile field
ever pleasant the garb of spring
winter gales past and gone

cheerfulness on every grove
restful, happy, sunlit time
flutterings of birds  flock down
green fields full of answerings
where the busy water sparkles

a passion sparks for the racing of horses
where warriors are arrayed
rich verges on the cattle pool
lend gold to the iris flower

shy unyielding lark
the burden of your song is clear
bonny serene May is perfect

Reprinted from :-
The Craneskin Bag;
Celtic Stories and Poems
as told and sung by Robin Williamson
Canongate, 1989

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