I think I am just going to post some poetry that I found in Dunaire Finn Part 2 rather than posting about how I see America from here. These are stanzas 56-58 from poem number XLVII.
A ndiaigh na naom go n-aille cleirigh dhiana diogháire ag foláir chrábhaidh go beacht is iad féin nocha ndingneat
Gidh olc na cleirigh gan bhrigh measa go mor na hairdrigh gidh olc na righa rabhaigh measa na maoír hreintaphaigh
Dia labhraid cluig a gceallaibh gidh ard leighionn gach seanoidh nocha mó do-cluin Criost cáidh no sanais isin camáir
After the beauteous saints will com fierce and violent clerics stricly enjoining piety, and they themselves will not practice it.
Though the worthless clerics be bad, worse far will be the high kings: though bad the warning (?) kings, worse again the strongly exacting stewards.
Though (?) bells sound in churches, though high be the learning of every synod, chaste Christ hears it no more than an announcment at daybreak.
posted by Chris #1:43 PM | 0 comments |