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Hälfte des Lebens

Friedrich Hölderlin
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Irish transcreation by Gabriel Rosenstock
AT THE MIDDLE OF LIFELEATH AN TSAOIL
The earth hangs down
to the lake, full of yellow
pears and wild roses.
Lovely swans, drunk with
kisses you dip your heads
into the holy, sobering waters.
Le piorraí buí ar crochadh,
Is rós’nna ag cur thar maoil,
An tír sa loch glé,
A ealaí gleoite
Ar meisce le póga
Tumann sibh síos
Sna huiscí beannaithe maorga.
But when winter comes,
where will I find
the flowers, the sunshine,
the shadows of the earth?
The walls stand
speechless and cold,
the weathervanes
rattle in the wind.
Faraor, cá bhfaigheadsa
Na bláthanna, i lár an gheimhridh
Is teas na gréin’
Is scáthanna an domhain?
Ná múrtha, Ó,
Balbh is fuar, is gliogar
Na gcoileach gaoithe.


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