Lightly blessing each
Fairy chin held in a damsel’s troth,
Go my fine boy, call her who has been my bride.
Go bid her fall, remembering her soul.
Be chosen in her eyes, o child,
No common sign find liar.
Now legend and scandal leave me easy,
Each, going, goes before I move from here.
Note: the prompt was to write a ‘translation’ of a poem in a language I didn’t know. This is the original:
Leagtaí blaoscanna each
Faoi chúinní halla an damhsa tráth,
Go mbainfí macalla as boinn na mbróg,
Go mbeadh na fallaí ramhar le ceol.
Ba choscrach an ní é, a chuid,
Na cnámha sin faoin lár:
Ní liginn an scanradh le m’ais
Ach ghuínn go bhfantá i mo chomhair.