gleann da locha

 

when the fallow deer flood down the mountain paths

and pick their way through slate grey tufts of rock

as evening light takes flight across the sallow grass

a mournful chanting blesses Glendalough

when years drop from the trees like autumn leaves

and time and tide recede like winter snows

as frail dreams flutter in the dicing breeze

past souls sing sad of leaving Glendalough