One of the great blessings of my life has been the opportunity to converse with one of Ireland’s finest poets, Brendan Kennelly, about the Celtic tradition and its poetry in particular. He told me that ‘the Celtic mind did not take kindly to obscurity’. He went on to point out that Celtic poetry had two other prominent characteristics: a great love of nature and a religious intensity. He kindly agreed to share some of his own translations of these poems from the original Gaelic and his own poems, which reflect aspects of the Celtic sensibility for this collection. There could only be one place to start for this purpose.
Begin
Begin again to the summoning birds
to the sight of the light at the window,
begin to the roar of morning traffic
all along Pembroke Road.
Every beginning is a promise
born in light and dying in dark
determination and exaltation of springtime
flowering the way to work.
Begin to the pageant of queuing girls
the arrogant loneliness of swans in the canal
bridges linking the past and future
old friends passing though with us still.
Begin to the loneliness that cannot end
since it perhaps is what makes us begin,
begin to wonder at unknown faces
at crying birds in the sudden rain
at branches stark in the willing sunlight
at seagulls foraging for bread
at couples sharing a sunny secret
alone together while making good.
Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin.
BRENDAN KENNELLY
Making Waves
I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am the ox of the seven combats,
I am the vulture upon the rocks,
I am the beam of the sun,
I am the fairest of the plants,
I am the wild boar in valour,
I am a salmon in the water,
I am a lake in the plain,
I am a word of science,
I am the point of the lance of battle,
I am the God who created in the head the fire.
Who is who throws light into the meeting of the mountain?
Who announces the age of the moon?
Who teaches the place where couches the son?
(If not I)
POEM BY AMERGIN, A CELTIC DRUID WHO LIVED BEFORE CHRIST;
TRANSLATED BY IRELAND’S FIRST PRESIDENT, DOUGLAS HYDE
Invocation
ETERNAL God omnipotent! The One
Sole Hope of worlds, Author and Guard alone
Of heaven and earth Thou art.
CAELIUS SEDULIUS, DIED CA. 454 AD
Habits
’O Cormac, grandson of Conn,’ said Carbery. ‘What were your habits when you were a lad?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac.
I was a listener in woods
I was a gazer at stars
I was blind where secrets were concerned
I was silent in a wilderness
I was talkative among many
I was mild in the mead-hall
I was stern in battle
I was gentle towards allies
I was a physician of the sick
I was weak towards the feeble
I was strong towards the powerful
I was not close lest I should be burdensome
I was not arrogant though I was wise
I was not given to promising though I was strong
I was not venturesome though I was swift
I did not deride the old though I was young
I was not boastful though I was a good fighter
I would not speak about any one in his absence
I would not reproach, but I would praise
I would not ask, but I would give
For it is through these habits that the young become old and kingly warriors.
CELTIC POEM
All Seeing
With an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Every Breath You Take
God works where God will . . .
And yet, I raise my hands to God
That I might be held
Just like a feather
On the breath of God
Which has no weight
From its own strength
And lets itself
Be carried to the wind.
HILDEGARD OF BINGEN, 1098–1179
Sweet, Sweet Smile
Go into the world
With a smile on your lips.
Go to spread a little happiness,
Over this valley of tears,
Smiling to everyone, but especially
To sad people,
To those disheartened by life,
To those falling under
The weight of the cross,
Smiling to them with that bright smile
That speaks of God’s goodness.
BLESSED URSULA LEDÓCHOWSKA, 1865–1939
Visions
The vision of God which thou dost see
Is my vision’s greatest enemy.
Both read their bibles day and night,
But thou read’st black where I read white.
WILLIAM BLAKE
Making a Difference
If you sit down at set of sun
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting, find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him who heard,
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went –
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if, through all the livelong day,
You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay –
If, through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face –
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost –
Then count that day as worse than lost.
GEORGE ELIOT, 1819–1880
Care and Share
To let go doesn’t mean to stop caring;
It means I can’t do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off . . .
It’s the realisation that I can’t control another . . .
To let go is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try and change or blame another,
I can only change myself.
To let go is not to care for, but to care about.
To let go is not to fix, but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their own outcomes.
To let go is not to be protective,
It is to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny, but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold, or argue,
but to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes and cherish the moment.
To let go is not to criticise and regulate anyone,
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.
To let go is to fear less and love more.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
Healthy Living
There is nothing the matter with me.
I’m as healthy as I can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
Arch supports I have for my feet
Or I wouldn’t be able to be on the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right.
My memory is failing, my head’s in a spin
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
The moral is this, as my tale I unfold,
That for you and me who are growing old,
It’s better to say ‘I’m fine’ with a grin
Than to let folks know the shape we are in.
How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my ‘get up and go’ just got up and went.
But I really don’t mind when I think with a grin
Of all the grand places my ‘get up’ has been.
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
Come Not
Come not in terror, as the King of Kings;
But kind and good, with healing in thy wings.
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea;
Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide with me.
HENRY FRANCIS LYTE, 1793–1847