Tugann an mháthair
Bia frithshruthaithe don ghearrcach
Feicim gach maidin í
Tugann Tusa an chruinne ar fad dúinn
Frithshruthaithe
Is mar sin a bhraitheann sé
Is mé ag slogadh.
An blas?
Bláth na n-úll tugtha chun cuimhne
The mother
Gives regurgitated food to the nestling
I see her every morning
You give us the whole universe
Regurgitated
That’s how it feels
When I swallow.
The taste?
Remembered apple blossom