Saturday, March 20, 2010

Lúghnasadh

To the hero, called to the Land

Of the Ever-Young, comes the Goddess,

Smiling, untouchable, offering

The jewelled and musical apple branch.


I turn to the East and sing to the sun,

Beloved light that marries darkness,

Each nurturing the other’s seed;

Let darkness turn light inward

To fertilize the womb.


Now for the fruits of the year,

The hidden harvest

When the lion’s claw

Draws blood in heaven’s name.

Now for the games,

The funeral games,

To hallow the furrows

With exultation’s fire.


Lightning, strike me,

Impale me on the sky,

Skill my hands

With tricky craft

To shape the world’s dreams.


When Lúgh arrives in Tara,

To claim his place among the Tuatha Dé Danann,

He announces:

“I am a poet from the Land of Apples,

Rich in swans and yews.”


Come, thunderstorms and rain!

Purge the air and refresh the earth,

That the sun’s fierce heat has seared

And withered with excess.

After fire, water:

Naked riders race their horses

Across the river, swimming them low

To stagger up clean

And shining on the far side.


The Janus head

Facing two ways

Stands on the hilltop

Where the people gather

To celebrate the god.

And the young men

Clash their staves

In sacred battle.


The chieftain, facing the rising sun,

Cuts the first sheaf with his sickle

Then holds it up to the heavens,

Turning three times deosil on his heels,

Chanting the paean.


Amid dancing and singing,

The Fairy Queen sits

On her stone throne, accepting

Flower garlands from the boys.

And at the hilltop fair

Poets recite their latest verses,

Musicians play and sing,

Craftsmen sell their handiwork.


I am a keen spear that pours forth battle:

Now is the turning,

The darkness regaining,

As the baleful Sun, jealous of lost power,

Rages, oppresses,

And must be checked.

Whoever holds the burning spear

Holds the joy of victory;

Lúgh of the Long Arm

Launches his thunderbolt

Into the sky’s heart.

See, the moon is waxing,

And, coming from afar,

The menacing shape

Of the Spear, whose target

Is your heart, my heart.

No comments: