“a dín Gáedel fo glóir glé,
a áebel óir ordnide.”


Old Irish, anonymous, from the dindsenchas “The White Lake of Carra

"Shield of the Gael, in pure glory

Illustrious golden spark of fire!”

(via americangael)

(via lordghillie)

“Puisque le temps se tient
Aux dimensions de notre avoir.”



"Time limits itself to the confines of what we have."

(via americangael)

“There are moments
When one finds you whole,
Brutally yourself.”


Guillevic, Breton poet.

 Translation by John Montague

(via americangael)

“Ach, nuair a fheicim na réalta, farraigí ‘s sléibhte- airím an tsaoirse
‘S nuair a chloisim glórtha ‘s amhráin ár sinsir-
Anois an t-am, an t-am.”

—   BEO Lurgan http://youtu.be/-Zaq87L2tac (via americangael)

(Source: american-gael)

“Tu regardes la mer
Et lui cherche des yeux

Tu regardes des yeux
Et tu y vois la mer”

—   Guillevic, Carnac

“Ce monde n’est que chose vaine”

—   Charles d’Orléans, XV siècle

Longest Day


Indulge the day

Defy the night

Summer light

Peaking stride

Dance as one

Selves sublime

Within, without

Around, around

Tracing paths

Worldly sky

Earth and Sun

Entwined, in-time

Endless Day

Dark denied

(Source: american-gael)


Midsummer’s Queen


Midsummer’s Queen

(Source: american-gael)

“The chestnut by the eaves
In magnificent bloom
Passes unnoticed
By men of the world”

—   Basho, Narrow Road to the Deep North

On This Summer Holiday

Grass blades shimmer silvery, the light reflecting
Off loosely woven beds in the man-made park,
Or rather, man-arranged.
They gather here to partake of the sun,
Hoping no doubt to take some pleasure of it,
Or, per chance, to make an exchange also,
Leaving behind some of what is unwanted.
In its course, the sun gives and gives,
Which people call generous, failing,
In compared youth, to grasp the sun’s nature.
Life folds and unfolds this way on the grass-beds
As they fold a sun-stained blanket.
It is summer again,
Though it needn’t heed these marks in time
Holidays, as parks, are just man-made things.
Or rather, man-arranged.