Geadh éigean fulang uille a dtriall anuas
Do gnéithibh guirte an chruinne a mbliadhna im bhuaic
Ní béarla briste ar bith bo stiall mo stuaim
Acht mé gan truis do chuirfeadh ciall im dhuain.

Níl éifeacht dom i gcumaidh tiacht mo nuar
D’éis na droinge dile i gcian dochuaidh
Mo léan aniudh na fir ar iarraidh uaim
Nach déineadh guth mo ghuib dá bhliaclaibh guais.


Although I needs must bear the weight of the bitter fortunes of the world
That in varied forms are falling down this year upon my head,
‘Tis not any faulty language that hath rent and spoiled my wit,
But the absence of the wealth that would put sense into my muse.

I have got, alas, no vigour left for forming friendships now,
Since the dearest friends I had have gone away to distant lands,
‘Tis the absence of those heroes that hath left me weak to-day,
For with them my oral voice was never fearful of its risks.