In Claraghatlea in Millstreet my life's journey began
And there i was raised and grew into a man
But far south of there the years have left me gray
By Clara i would be a stranger to many today
To other life forms little different at all
Since for each one of us there is a final Fall
And for each one of us a final Summer, Winter and Spring
Like the bird who one day has it's last song to sing
Success and failure to me now seem the same
Since i have lost my desire for moneyed wealth and fame
The rhymes that come to me in notepaper i write down
I wrote my first one by a far away town
Not one of life's successes that's how it seems to be
Perhaps my years of absence now would make a stranger of me
In the place where i first looked on the lamp of day
By the Boggeragh mountains from here far away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem