You came from clear air
Pure sky
Of our being
Wellspring of desire
Your fierce intelligence pressing on me
There are not enough minutes to the day
Show Yourself
Your lips
From which issue
The flaming tongues
Of my poem
Aer glan
As aer glan a tháinís
As spéir íon
Ár mbeatha
As tobar ár ndúile
D’éirim á brú orm go fíochmhar
Níl dóthain nóimintí sa lá
Nocht Tú féin
Do bheola
As a séideann
Teangacha lasracha
Mo dháin