The green hills lay silent,
Glens whispered within a quiet breeze,
The sky was as blue as un-chartered ocean
While birds nested in the oldest of oaks trees.
The clans of Erin softly slept,
Through the prayers and poetry of the Bards and Druids,
While the fairy race of the Tuatha de Dannan
Crept onto Irelands shore like an ocean mist.
2006
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem