Marbhna Croí

The stars,
they are falling.
O gran'ma,
they're falling.
Sweet night,
calm night,
but they are falling.

Make a wish,
O son of mine.
Make a wish,
upon every line.
Every star,
my star,
order in divine.

Wonderous it was,
a quiet night in moans.
Nothing but whispers,
of the air and the stones.
Past glories,
sad stories,
for the lively and the bones.

She said I wish,
if you can't make a wish.
I wish she said,
you to know a wish.
High or low,
friend and foe,
just be what you wish.

Marbhna croí,
O gran'ma beside your bed.
Marbhna croí,
beside the stone and the head.
Conquer I did,
wished as you said,
but the stars, O gran'ma,
are still falling...

*Marbhna Croí: lament of a heart.