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Laura Napran, commended (Open category)
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Sneachta

D’éalaínn amach le teacht an lae
ar na maidneacha geala geimhridh adaí
is an sneachta ag titim mar chlúmh gé.
Bhíodh an tír chomh coimhthíoch le fásach;
na harda uilig ina ndumhcha is na bóithigh
cuachta go cruiteach, camaill chodlatacha.

Ba mhór an tógáil croí ar maidin go luath
an bhalbh-bháine adaí a bheith i mo thimpeall
is an saol á shamhlú agam ansiúd as an nua.

Tá an leathanach bán seo dálta thír an tsneachta
ag mealladh an pháiste atá istigh amach
lena chuma féin a chur ar lom na cruthaitheachta.


Cathal Ó Searcaigh
Snow

I escaped the house at day
On bright winter mornings,
Snow falling like feathers of a goose.

The country an alien wasteland;
Each high place a sand-hill, the cowhouses
deformed dromedaries, dreaming.

In early morn, a great lifting of the heart,
Mute white wasteness round about me,
Out there I held new life for the imagining.

This white page betrothed to a land of snow
Beguiles the hidden child to come out
Imprinting his own self on bleak creation


translated from the Irish by Laura Napran
  [Commentary on the poem by the translator]   



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