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