Sitting on my bed,
harking back my memories
Can’t go play outside,
just want to mend the crisis
Can’t play but pray for healing

looking past mundane and bore
the isolation such a chore
remember what we do it for~
to not repeat a sickly lore.
the pestilence in days of yore
spared neither emperor or *****.

though we now find common fight
absent kin is not quite right
or lover in the dead of night
too far to hold my body tight.
I ask with no one in my sight
when parts this darkness for the light?

I miss the skin and velvet touch
and loving in our dreamy hutch
but we all know this feeling-such-
to bear it with a hopeful hunch
to greet with kiss and ardent clutch
when time has healed the world that much.

so care for neighbor with a prayer
sing a song and bless the air~
‘tis not so much we can not bear.
observe the quiet for it’s rare.
and finding outside beauty fair
feel happy you’ve the time to spare.

until it comes I inward gaze
and see my soul is still ablaze
with hope for man and better days
amidst this heavily pressing haze.
we shall emerge with better ways
of sharing in the heaven’s rays.

the world is busy
the virus is not lazy

do not say bye
the sun gives shine

you must also pray
ask God to forgive you

we must apologize
draw a smile as a prize

the sun will shine
with hope every day

Ich am of Irlaunde ("I am of Ireland")
(anonymous Medieval Irish Lyric, circa 13th-14th century AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am of Ireland,
and of the holy land of Ireland.
Gentlefolk I pray thee:
for the sake of saintly charity,
come dance with me
in Ireland!

Original text:

Ich am of Irlaunde,
Ant of the holy londe
Of Irlande.
Gode sire, pray ich the,
For of saynte charite,
Come ant daunce wyth me
In Irlaunde.

Keywords/Tags: Ireland, medieval Irish, translation, holy, land, good, sire, gentlemen, pray, saintly, charity, dance