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# Posted 6:48 PM by Patrick Belton

POETRY CORNER: This for the advent of St Patrick's day, by the early mediaeval Irish poet Fearchar Ó Maoilchiaráin.

In a cloak, that bright breast of yours
it should not be the blackthorn brooch;
for you it is, sweet redmouthed Mór,
the one brooch of gold in Éire.

In your cloak, the proper instrument is
only a brooch of noble finndruinna
or a wondrous brooch made of gold,
sweetworded redmouthed Mór.

Oh, soft hair the colour of amber,
oh, furrow in the dapplegold cloak,
oh, resolute hero who may never betray a man,
a brooch of blackthorn is not fitting.

You should sow, my heart's nut,
in your many-yellowed checked cloak
your red cheeks a hard-run prize
only a difficult brooch by the faery smith Goibhniu.

Crimson cheek that haunts me,
without a gold pin, only this hour of mine
for the length of an hour, oh pure hand
for the green cloak of your soul.

- Fearchar Ó Maoilchiaráin, 811 A.D. (Maureen O'Brien, trans.)

I mbrat an bhrollaigh ghil-se
ní bhiadh an dealg droighin-se
dá mbeith, a Mhór bhéildearg bhinn,
an éindealg d'ór i nÉirinn.

San mbrat-sa níor chóir do chur
acht dealg d'fhionndruine uasal,
nó dealg iongantach d'ór cheard,
a Mhór bhionnfhoclach bhéildearg.

A fholt lag ar lí an ómra,
a chur id bhrat bhreacórdha
a stuaigh chobhsaidh nár chealg fear,
nior chosmhail dealg don droighean.

Níor churtha a chnú mo chroidhe,
id bhrat eangach iolbhuidhe,
a ghruaidh dhearg do-ghéabhadh geall,
acht dealg do-ghéanadh Gaibhneann.

A ghruadh chorcra do char mé,
gan dealg óir acht an uair-se
ar feadh na huaire, a ghlac ghlan,
do bhrat uaine do b'annamh.

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