The Poets of the Great Blasket
- A Tribute -
- Is it not a strange thing to be drawn so
To people I did not know?
To a place I am yet to go? -
I’ll sail across the ocean
Lonesome island in the west
Where long ago
The storytellers and poets of the Blaskets
There they lived;
Inspired by emerald pastures
Rocky cliffs, storm-battered reefs
Golden mountains at sunrise
At sunset deep-blue seas
Once white-washed houses;
They were homes
Now desolate heaps of stones
Weather-beaten ruins
Long since overgrown
Once upon a time they had a soul
Filled with laughter, song and dance
Yet also plenty sorrow, grief and pain
Love-ones dying or leaving for
It was all the same;
Almost never would they meet again
I’ll follow in their footprints
And I’ll leave behind a rose
In honour of those
Storytellers and Poets of the Great Blasket
And all the brave Islanders
Whom died penniless and cold
sign: | Maandag, maart 23, 2009 21:54 |
Ik denk dat velen dit niet zullen begrijpen zoals je het neerzet. Maar niets is mooier dan het gevoel wat je zelf voelt en weergeeft in je gedicht. Dit is van jou en je beschrijft op een mooie manier de historie. Niet velen kennen de historie van The Great Blaskets. | |
Auteur: Mrs Flintstone | ||
Gecontroleerd door: | ||
Gepubliceerd op: 23 maart 2009 | ||
Thema's: |