who_will_buy_a_poem nom Ceist! cia do cheinneóchadh dán? a chiall is ceirteólas suadh: an ngéabhadh, nó an áil le haon, dán saor do-bhéaradh go buan? Gé dán sin go snadhmadh bhfis, gach margadh ó chrois go crois do shiobhail mé an Mhumhain leis— ní breis é a-nuraidh ná a-nois. D'éirneist gémadh beag an bonn, níor chuir fear ná éinbhean ann, níor luaidh aoinfhear créad dá chionn, níor fhéagh liom Gaoidheal ná Gall. Ceard mar so ní sochar dhún, gé dochar a dol fa lár: uaisle dul re déiniomh cíor— ga bríogh d'éinfhior dul re dán? Ní mhair Corc Chaisil ná Cian, nár chaigil a gcrodh ná a luagh, na réidhfhir ag díol na ndámh— slán lé síol Éibhir mon-uar. Geall bronnta níor beanadh dhíobh, Cobhthach go teasda agus Tál: iomdha drong diongbhaim dá luadh, uaim anonn dá ndiongnainn dán. Mé im luing cheannaigh ar gcaill laist d'éis Chlann nGearailt do thuill teist: ní chluinim —is cás rom loisg: fás an toisg fá gcuirim ceist. ... Question! Who will buy a poem? Its meaning is genuine learning of scholars. Will any take, or does any lack, a noble poem that shall make him immortal? Though this is a poem with close-knit science, I have walked all Munster with it, every market from cross to cross— nothing gained from last year to this time. Though a groat were a small earnest, not one man or woman offered it: no man mentioned the reason; neither Gael nor Gall gave heed to me Such an art as this is no profit to me, though it is a misfortune that it should fall to the ground: it were more honourable to become a maker of combs— what use is it to anyone to profess poetry? Corc of Cashel lives not, nor Cian, who never spared their cattle, nor the price of them, open-handed men at paying the bardic companies - alas! it is goodbye to the race of Eibhear. They never lost the palm for generosity, until Cobhthach and Tál died: many a host i leave untold, for whom i would have continued to make poetry. I am a merchant ship that has lost its cargo, after the Fitzgeralds who deserved renown. I hear no answer - a case that has tormented me. 'Tis an idle business about which I put a question. Mathghamhain Ó Hifearnáin (Mahon O'Heffernan), early 17th century hopes she got that all right 030909 ... egger ... 060828 ... stork daddy . 060828 ... nom i would buy a poem 070110 ... & Who will a poem buy? 070110 ... stork daddy and yet i'll be thought idler than the regular set the martyrs call the world. 070110 what's it to you? who go blather from