名人诗歌|Achill

I lie and imagine a first light gleam in the bay

After one more night of erosion and nearer the grave，

Then stand and gaze from the window at break of day

As a shearwater skims the ridge^{1 of an incoming wave；}

And I think of my son a dolphin in the Aegean，

A sprite among sails knife-bright in a seasonal^{2 wind，}

And wish he were here where currachs walk on the ocean

To ease with his talk the solitude^{3 locked in my mind.}

I sit on a stone after lunch and consider the glow

Of the sun through mist， a pearl bulb containdly fierce；

A rain-shower darkens the schist for a minute or so

Then it drifts away and the sloe-black patches disperse^4.

Croagh Patrick towers like Naxos over the water

And I think of my daughter at work on her difficult art

And wish she were with me now between thrush and plover^5，

Wild thyme and sea-thrift， to lift the weight from my heart.

The young sit smoking and laughing on the bridge at evening

Like birds on a telephone pole or notes on a score.

A tin whistle squeals^{6 in the parlour， once more it is raining，}

Turf-smoke inclines and a wind whines^{7 under the door；}

And I lie and imagine the lights going on in the harbor

Of white-housed Nousa， your clear definition at night，

And wish you were here to upstage my disconsolate^{8 labour}

As I glance through a few thin pages and switch off the light.