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Donall Dempsey Oct 2015
AS GAEILGE
( In Irish )

Dún do shúile
(Close your eyes)                

Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .

Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .

Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi

(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)                

aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)                

gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .

Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)                

Ach anois...
(But now...)                

codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)                

go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)                

le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .

Losing our baby
late into the night

holding this    little thing
that only attempted to be human

unable to let go

I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand

& buried it in the dawn
of our local park

under a recently planted
red rose bush.

In my grief
flower & baby
became one

and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars

to talk to her in the dark      in Irish.

Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.

Or cry...or...cry.

Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop
drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.

Guess he let me go because -  it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:

“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”

- in Irish.

Eist...eist
(listen...listen)      

duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)      

in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .

Fill...fill...a run o!

Fill a run o is  na imigh uaim.

Fill orm a chuisle a stor

agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!
This is a very important poem for me and not just any poem
due to the nature of what it deals it. It took me 10 years to get around to writing it and this is about the 4th version that struggles to be even able to grasp it. It is not the easiest of poems to recite but then...

I enclose the poem itself and the bit in the Times article that deals with me.

Most times people don't know what to do with it and are generally embarrassed by what it talks about or how I faced up to it.

For me it is like gathering my baby back from the dark and making her real again and giving her a place in this world.

It is a lament and lullaby at the one and the same time and also of course a statement of love.

People who have lost babies come up to me and it is a relief for them to be able to talk about children who have vanished from this world but not from their world.

THE TIMES - LONDON: SAT 31.04.07
Article on Performance orientated poetry:

'Donall is 51, with wild hair and an infectious laugh, working as a special needs teacher in Tottenham. He started performing to recover from severe paralysis that made talking painful and difficult.

He reads a poem that recalls the death of his unborn child.
'Early in my wife's pregnancy, in the middle of the night, we lost the baby, it happened at home and there was blood everywhere. My wife said: 'Don't flush my baby away! ” I didn't know what to do so I buried the foetus beneath a rose bush in our local park.
You just can't be prepared for something like that, holding something in your hand that you never thought you'd be holding. The poem was my solution to the impossible situation I was in.
There had to be somewhere where I could lay down the pain.
There are people out there grateful to have this grief articulated for them, for helping them to understand, or just be aware. It is healing for them and for me.'

The poem is beautifully lyrical, written in a blend of Irish and English.
From each and every pore look how the sun beams
On Your eternal dance
The dark side of the moon is bright
If You open Your mouth
Stars will escape and chant their hymns for You
You are they
Swiftly swans fly backwards
How can I imagine Your embrace
Without exploding in Your galaxy?

As gach póir Díot

As gach póir Díot scallann an ghrian
Ar Do dhamhsa gan chríoch
Taobh dorcha na gealaí is geal
Má osclaíonn Tú Do bhéal
Éalóidh réaltaí, canfaidh iomainn Duit
Is Tusa iadsan
Ealaí ag eitilt go gasta ar gcúl
Conas a shamhlóinn barróg Uait
Mura bpléascfainn Id réaltbhuíon?
You were a ghost in my arms; a phantom in my bed.
I swear you had no reflection as if you were dead.
This affair’s death was inevitably beginning to show.
Chaos was in my heart, but emptiness was in your shadow.
Even though you walked like a lioness in her pride,
There was a vacuum of sorrow in my insides.
Internally, it was a cascade of dark, no-void form.
But externally, you were the one who brought the storm.
You forever etched your image across my skyline.
But alas, the sun is gone, and your image has died.

Bha thu an thaibhse an mo ghàirdeanan; taibhse na mo leabdaidh.
Tha mi a’ mionnachadh nach robh sgàthan agad; mar na mairbh.
Bha bàs an daimbh seo gu cinnteach a ‘toiseachadh a’ nochdabh.
Bha gealtach nam chridhe, ach bha falambh nad sgàil.
Eadhon ged a choisich thu mar uaill an leòmhann.
Bha mi làn bròn nam broinn.
Taobh a-staigh, gleann de chruth dorcha gun bheàrn
Ach air an taobh a-muigh, b ‘e thusa a-thig an stoirm.
Tha thu gu bràth air do ìomhaigh a dhèanamh thairis air faire agam.
Ach, thig a lorg, tha a ‘ghrian air falbh, agus tha an ìomhaigh agad air bàsachadh.
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
AS GAELIGE( IN IRISH )

Dún do súile
(Close your eyes)

Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .

Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .

Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi

(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)

aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)

gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .

Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)

Ach anois...
(But now...)

codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)

go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)

le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .

Losing our baby
late into the night

holding this little thing
that only attempted to be human

unable to let go

I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand

& buried it in the dawn
of our local park

under a recently planted
red rose bush.

In my grief
flower & baby
became one

and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars

to talk to her in the dark in Irish.

Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.

Or cry...or...cry.

Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop

drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.

Guess he let me go because - it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:

“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”

- in Irish.

Eist...eist
(listen...listen)

duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)

in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .

Fill...fill...a run o!

Fill a run o is na imigh uaim.

Fill orm a chuisle a stor

agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!

Part of this was quoted in THE TIMES-LONDON: SAT 31.04.07 with the tiniest bit of an interview.
I'll hold you in my dreams until our first day.
I don't know your face, but I know your presence.
My heart has been yours since you first caressed my cheek
But seas between us have made me grow weary;
Will time be on our side?
Or will our shadows forever fade with the sunset?

Cumaidh mi thu na aislingean mi gus a' chiad latha againn
Chan eil mì eòlach air d' aghaidh, ach tha fios agam air do lathaireachd.
Tha mo chridhe air a bhith leatsa bho bhuail thu mo ghruaidh an toiseach
Ach tha cuantan eadar sinn air mo dhèanamh sgìth;
Am bi ùine air ar taobh?
No am bi na faileasan againn gu bràth a 'dol fodha le dol fodha na grèine?
Someday, I'll find you.
Donall Dempsey Oct 2017
AS GAELIGE( IN IRISH )

Dún do súile
(Close your eyes)

Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .

Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .

Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi

(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)

aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)

gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .

Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)

Ach anois...
(But now...)

codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)

go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)

le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .

Losing our baby
late into the night

holding this little thing
that only attempted to be human

unable to let go

I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand

& buried it in the dawn
of our local park

under a recently planted
red rose bush.

In my grief
flower & baby
became one

and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars

to talk to her in the dark in Irish.

Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.

Or cry...or...cry.

Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop

drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.

Guess he let me go because - it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:

“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”

- in Irish.

Eist...eist
(listen...listen)

duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)

in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .

Fill...fill...a run o!

Fill a run o is na imigh uaim.

Fill orm a chuisle a stor

agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!

(THE TIMES-LONDON: SAT 31.04.07)
fiachra breac May 2019
teanga álainn
san aer.

ar gach taobh:

daoine áille
agus
tír gálanta.

éistim,
mo shúile druidte -

tarraingím anáil dhomhain:

síochain
diolch, agues go raibh maith agaibh a Bhreatain Bheag
I heard your call, and I immediately ran,
To hold you close, and to hold your hand.

We stand together now, by our sky-blue sea,
With no more angst, our souls forever fly free.

And when you call, I swear I will answer.
And when you sing, I’ll be your dancer.

By all the stars, our dreams will come true.
Upon your whim, I’ll be beside you.

So in this moment, make your wish, my dear,
And whisper your grace, forever, in my ear.

/////

Chuala mi do ghairm, agus ruith mi sa bhad,
Gus do chumail dlùth, agus do làmh a chumail.

Tha sinn a ’seasamh còmhla a-nis, ri taobh na mara speur-ghorm againn,
Leis nach eil barrachd angst ann, bidh ar n-anaman gu bràth a ’sgèith an-asgaidh.

Agus nuair a dh ’iarras tu, tha mi a’ mionnachadh gum freagair mi.
Agus nuair a bhios tu a ’seinn, bidh mi nam dannsair agad.

Leis na reultan air fad, thig ar aislingean gu buil.
Air do chuim, bidh mi ri do thaobh.

Mar sin anns an àm seo, dèan do mhiann, a ghràidh,
Agus seinn do ghràs, gu bràth, na mo chluasan
Another poem with a Gaelic twist.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2019
AS GAEILGE
(In Irish)

Dún do súile
(Close your eyes)

Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .

Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .

Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi

(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)

aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)

gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .

Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)

Ach anois...
(But now...)

codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)

go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)

le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .

Losing our baby
late into the night

holding this little thing
that only attempted to be human

unable to let go

I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand

& buried it in the dawn
of our local park

under a recently planted
red rose bush.

In my grief
flower & baby
became one

and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars

to talk to her in the dark in Irish.

Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.

Or cry...or...cry.

Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop
drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.

Guess he let me go because - it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:

“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”

- in Irish.

Eist...eist
(listen...listen)

duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)

in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .

Fill...fill...a run o!

Fill a run o is na imigh uaim.

Fill orm a chuisle a stor

agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!
Donall Dempsey Sep 2020
AS GAEILGE
(In Irish)

Dún do súile
(Close your eyes)

Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .

Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .

Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi

(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)

aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)

gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .

Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)

Ach anois...
(But now...)

codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)

go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)

le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .

Losing our baby
late into the night

holding this little thing
that only attempted to be human

unable to let go

I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand

& buried it in the dawn
of our local park

under a recently planted
red rose bush.

In my grief
flower & baby
became one

and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars

to talk to her in the dark in Irish.

Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.

Or cry...or...cry.

Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop
drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.

Guess he let me go because - it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:

“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”

- in Irish.

Eist...eist
(listen...listen)

duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)

in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .

Fill...fill...a run o!

Fill a run o is na imigh uaim.

Fill orm a chuisle a stor

agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!
Donall Dempsey Sep 2024
FÉACH AMACH!(WATCH OUT!)

gan guth
i measc guthanna
gan focail

(without a voice
amongst voices
without words)

gan réaltaí
cén áit é seo?
báthadh faoi ghloine

(no stars
what place is this
drowning under glass)

ag breathnú amach as
an taobh mícheart
den scáthán

(looking out from
the wrong side
of the mirror)

ag faire ar mo mhachnamh
ag siúl amach
ag gáire

(watching my reflection
walking away
laughing)

— The End —